


only the trees will remember my name

by HybridDragoness



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood, Camping, Gen, Gore, Horror, Humor in Early Chapters, Illustrations, Monsters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Paranormal, Progressive Tension, Supernatural Elements, Survival Horror, Various Ships if You Squint, past trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-02-29 23:07:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18788125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HybridDragoness/pseuds/HybridDragoness
Summary: Alfred has had enough of the anti-social behaviour his fellow nations have been exhibiting and Jack suggests organising a camping trip. It was supposed to be a weekend of roasted marshmallows, crappy ghost stories and copious amounts of alcohol, but what they got was a whole lot more.





	1. a seed is sown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cover Art can be found here at the official Tumblr page:  
> https://hetahorror-official.tumblr.com/post/185011053283/official-cover-art-you-can-read-the-story-on-ao3

Boring.

That was the only word Alfred could describe this situation as. On second thought, not even boring sufficed. Every world meeting since whenever he could remember had progressively been getting duller. Issues were discussed, potential solutions were put forward, arguments were raised and eventually everyone one conceded defeat and nothing of any significance would come out of the whole show.

Now, this wasn't to say that Alfred hated peacetime, not at all! Peacetime was glorious. But ever since the world had settled down, relatively speaking, all of the nations he had met or had become acquainted with had fallen into a state of distant social stagnation. For the most part, everyone seemed to revert back to their own geographical circles.

He looked across the table to where - Alfred quickly glanced at the name plate on the table – Poland, was animatedly talking about something. Having long tuned out to the conversation, the sentence fragments he caught were lost on him. The blonde was making big arm gestures and constantly glancing to Lithuania for back up. The brunette merely nodded and smiled, seemingly nervous being under the eyes of almost everyone else in the meeting room.

Alfred rolled a ball of notepaper in his hand as he had a profound realisation. It dawned on him that beyond these occasional world summits, they didn’t really spend much time all together as a group anymore.

'Man, when did we get so anti-social?' he mused. 'We never do anything anymore... This sucks!'

"America, what's your opinion?"

Suddenly Alfred felt the weight of everyone’s gaze settle upon him. The wad of paper made a desperate crinkling noise as the American clenched his fist tighter – it was starting to feel like a lump of lead. It was likely to become as equally dense if he was scrutinised by the entire meeting any longer.

"I, uuuh," he started - and didn't really stop. At the corner of his eye he saw Arthur make an incredulous face as he rolled his eyes. With that, he decided the best answer to give was a strong and resounding: "Yes!"

The room erupted into a furore - about half of the nations rose from their seats and proceeded to point and shout at one another. Alfred swore he saw Egypt throw a pen across the table.

"You really are an idiot," Arthur scoffed, crossed his arms and leaned back into his seat. Alfred had nothing more to say – which was probably for the best. He really should have listened to the discussion more intently.

Eventually - after an unfortunate window was broken by a stray coffee mug - the meeting was dismissed for a brief recess. The hall had quietened down considerably as many of the arguing nations opted to take their breaks at opposite ends of the building. The embarrassing incident left Alfred desperately craving a carbonated drink and so began his quest. He hoped that he wouldn't run into a certain cranky and condescending Brit. While he could normally tolerate and keep pace with his friend’s banter, today was not the day for it. Not to mention, with the commotion that had just taken place, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat sheepish.

He rounded the corner of the corridor and was relieved at the sight of the neat row of vending machines. As he fished his pockets for loose change, he noticed someone else by the machines retrieving a drink.

"Eeey, ‘Merica; man of the hour!" Australia beamed and raised his hand for a high-five that Alfred reluctantly returned. "Nice work on the meeting, couldn’ta handled it better myself."

"Shut up, Jack," Alfred retorted, but there was no punch behind it. His out-of-sorts mood was quickly picked up by the other, whose expression turned wide-eyed.  
"You feelin' alright, mate?"

Alfred poked some coins into the humming machine.

"Not really," he answered honestly, "Just been thinking about stuff."

"Oh?" Jack leaned against the adjacent vending machine, cracking the tab on his can of soda and taking a swig. "What sorta stuff?"

"I dunno, it's just... don’t you find it boring?”

“Well… yeah? Who enjoys suiting up and sitting in a stuffy hall for hours?”

“No, dude, not the meetings – well, they’re boring too but, like…” Alfred paused as the vending machine interrupted with a familiar kerthunk! He picked up his soda and cracked the tab. "We don’t do anything – we just show up to these meetings, do our business and then go back to our separate lives."

"Oh, that sorta stuff..." Jack sighed with understanding. He flicked idly at the tab of his drink can. "Ever thought of organisin' something for everyone? Y'know, like a party? Or a camping trip? You can go out somewhere isolated, go for a hike, crack open some beers; Zeals n’ I do it all the time."

Alfred was about to take a sip from his soda when Jack's words sparked a light in his head.

"That's... a great idea, holy crap," Alfred remarked looking rather dumbfounded. "Why didn't I think of that?"

“Hey, I’m full of great ideas but f’some reason nobody asks me,” Jack remarked and shrugged. "If you do go through with it though, don't be a stooge and not invite me!" He fondly nudged Alfred in the arm before returning to the conference room.

Alfred stood by the vending machines a while longer. The gentle thrum of refrigeration surrounded him as he mulled over the idea with growing anticipation.

"This is going to be so ace!"

 

“A camping trip?” Arthur sounded dubious.

Alfred had sat himself on the meeting table where the small handful of European nations had been reviewing their notes. The recess hadn’t quite come to an end yet, but one by one they were all returning to their seats. The group exchanged uncertain glances as Alfred’s suggestion sunk in.

“For reals, dudes,” Alfred confirmed. “All of us are going camping in the wilderness; it’ll be kick-ass!”

No one shared his enthusiasm.

“Somehow, I don’t think that would be such a good idea,” Arthur spoke for the rest of the nations present – which, upon observation, appeared to be a circle of the former Allies. Both he and Yao appeared disillusioned with the concept of a great-outdoors-adventure, whilst Ivan seemingly ignored the whole affair.

“Whaaat?” Alfred whined causing Arthur to visibly wince at the volume. “But I think it’s a great idea.”

“Every idea you have, you think is a great idea…” Yao murmured; an astute observation that Arthur could only nod at.

“Oh, but I agree with you,” Francis joined in, practically perching his head over Arthur’s shoulder. “Perhaps _Angleterre_ here simply dislikes the thought of snuggling in a tent with me.” The last few words were flourished with a devious wink and Arthur growled dangerously.

Without further warning, the Englishman slammed the palm of his hand into Francis’s face and forcibly re-established a comfortable distance between them.

“Anyone with as much as a teaspoon of decency would dislike the thought of sharing a tent with you, frog!”

“How cruel!” Francis feigned a hurt expression – bringing the back of his hand to his forehead for dramatic effect. Their bickering only escalated – as it always tended to – leaving Alfred crestfallen.

“C’mon guys, I was trying to be thoughtful,” he huffed as his shoulders sagged. “I mean, we don’t do stuff together like we used to. I only see you guys, like, at these stupid meetings and lame political events.” Alfred might as well have been talking to himself, as he noticed that his words had practically blown over the two fighting blondes and Yao had busied himself with his papers.

A hand dropped on his shoulder and Alfred just about jumped out of his skin.

“I like the idea, America,” came Italy’s soft voice. It appeared that the ruckus had attracted his attention, having been seated only a few chairs down. Alfred’s eyes lit up with a rising hopefulness. He couldn’t say he knew the Mediterranean nation particularly well – but he was nevertheless encouraged by the show of interest.

“I haven’t spent time with a lot of people lately; we should all go together and have fun!” The shorter nation turned around to wave over his friends. “How about it, Ludwig? Kiku?”

“How about, what, Feliciano?” Ludwig questioned as his eyes drew over to where Francis and Arthur were still arguing. He wasn’t quite sure what the inquiry was in reference to and wasn’t about to make a committed answer.

“A camping trip,” the Italian answered brightly. At the first hint of doubt in Ludwig’s eyes, he reached out to take hold of his hands, swinging them playfully. “It’ll be so much fun, c’mon! It’ll be like that time we were at that beach, on that island – remember?”

Feliciano began to ramble frantically about their past hangouts, and Kiku – who was normally rather reserved in all exchanges Alfred had seen him in – smiled fondly, clearly recalling those events and sharing in the joyful nostalgia.

“I do not mind,” Kiku admitted. His small smile grew a fraction as he noticed Ludwig cast him a look of abandonment. Eventually, he too caved in to Feliciano’s pleading.

“Alright, I’m in,” he resigned.

“Hooray!” Feliciano and Alfred both threw their arms into the air.

“If Kiku is going, I suppose I wouldn’t mind coming too,” Yao piped up – his façade of disinterest rapidly fading.

“That’s five,” Feliciano tallied as he began looking around the room for more potential invitees.

“Make that six, _da?_ ”

“Don’t stand so close behind me!” Yao nearly flopped face-first into the meeting table at the sudden unexpected presence of the tall Russian. “You scare me half to death when you do that!”

Alfred didn’t entirely feel content with Ivan inviting himself to the gathering – but in a strange way he didn’t mind. He felt swept up in the excitement of finally getting to hang out with his fellow nations again that it didn’t really matter that he and Ivan weren’t exactly friends; after all, the more the merrier!

“It looks like it’s going to take them some convincing…” Ludwig muttered as he pointed to Francis and Arthur who were still somehow fighting.

“Well, Francis said he liked the idea – so technically that’s seven,” Alfred corrected. “Arthur’s the only one who hasn’t really agreed.”

With regained vigour, Alfred strode up to the two wrestling men and pushed them apart effortlessly.

“Arthur, you’re the last one, dude!”

“I already told you no,” he grumbled. “With you at the helm of it, it would be a complete and utter disaster.”

“Black-Sheep of Europe…” Francis hissed quietly. The old nickname earned the Frenchman a death stare packing enough ice to freeze hell twice over.

“Dude, don’t be such a party pooper! Get out and see the wilderness!” Alfred wrapped an arm around Arthur’s shoulder as he said this, and waved the other hand out in front of them as if to unfold an imaginary landscape.

“That’s rich, coming from the guy who sits on his arse eating garbage all day,” Arthur quipped, only for Alfred to tighten his arm around his shoulders.

“So you’re coming?”

“No.”

“That’s eight!”

“I said ‘no’, you bloody fool!”

“Alright, so here’s the plan,” Alfred snatched a scrap of paper and a pen from one of the many scattered across the table. “We’ll meet up at this address after the meeting; bring whatever you guys have for clothes – I’ll sort out the rest – and then tomorrow morning, we’ll go!”

Everyone was watching the American as he frantically wrote directions on the paper.

“Go where, exactly?” Arthur asked. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the younger nation.

“To the perfect camping place! It’s a secret – but you’re gonna love it!” Alfred was talking so fast in his excitement almost no one fully heard him. “Anyway, you dudes got all that Oh, and bring food and drinks – camping isn’t camping without the snacks!”

There was a sound of agreement from the group – though there was a shared sentiment that this was either going to be the best or worst weekend of their lives. As Alfred returned to his seat and the meeting was called to resume, he couldn’t help but feel that he was forgetting something beneath all his joy.

After the world conference had been drawn to a close, Ludwig had returned to the hotel they were designated to stay at. He sat on the edge of the bed sorting through his clothes idly, head feeling sluggish from the slow and unconstructive meeting. He wasn’t entirely sure if he had the energy to get through a multi-national camping ‘shindig’ as Alfred had aptly put it. Nevertheless, he couldn’t say no to Feliciano’s enthusiasm. He had enough clothes to last the weekend anyway, and it was meant to be a relaxing social gathering…

…though thinking about who was already invited, he recognised that it was very unlikely that this event would result in any kind of relaxation.

With a heavy sigh, Ludwig placed his clothes into the rucksack he had prepared and departed for the bathroom to fetch a towel.

The electronic lock clicked and the hotel room door creaked ajar – the sound slightly dampened by the whirring bathroom fan.

“Hey, what do you know, my key card works here too…” the words were whispered just out of earshot. Gilbert tiptoed past the bathroom door, mobile phone in hand – and recording – as he narrated quietly, “on this episode of ‘The Daily Life of the Awesome One’…”

Gilbert switched to the forward camera, focusing on the rucksack Ludwig had left on the bed as he pressed his fingers to the phone screen to zoom in and out dramatically.

“What dirty secrets will we uncover in my brother’s bag? Stay tuned and we’ll find out--”

“What are you doing?”

Gilbert made a dignified squeak of surprise as he spun on his heels to face his younger brother. Ludwig’s brow was raised quizzically as he eyed the phone in his sibling’s hand. Gilbert regained his composure quickly, clearing his throat in a very deliberate manner.

“We were caught out by West, thus concludes this episode.”

“Why were you filming my bag?”

“Oh you know, just recording another exciting episode of my life for my blog,” he answered proudly. “It’s gaining traction, I tell you – I had ten views on last week’s episode!”

“Ooh, that’s very good,” Ludwig said in a light voice that Gilbert immediately recognised as sarcasm. He pouted as the blonde walked past and resumed packing the rucksack. His interest in the activity drew him out of his brief dejectedness.

“So, um, what are you packing for?”

“Weren’t you going to stay with Antonio this weekend?” Ludwig deflected with a question of his own. He knew where the conversation would lead if he gave his brother the real answer.

“ _Hola!_ ”

The two Germanic brothers glanced over to the doorway where Antonio was now standing with his ever jovial demeanour.

“No, you didn’t listen to me – Antonio is coming to stay with us,” Gilbert informed all the while waggling a finger in front of his face.

“Lovino, too,” Antonio added as a second figure was dragged into the room. The shorter brunette refused to make eye-contact with any of them, instead taking preference to glaring holes into the beige wallpaper.

“So, Ludwig, why all the packing?” Antonio continued easily, “you catching an early plane tomorrow?”

“I’m going camping,” he confessed. There was no avoiding it at this point. “Alfred invited a few people for a trip tomorrow.”

Gilbert’s jaw dropped.

“I’ll be home by next Monday, so don’t take this as an excuse to have a mad house party.” The blonde zipped the rucksack and was about to place it by the door when Gilbert intercepted him.

“Wait, wait, wait,” the white-haired brother waved his hands frantically, temporarily forgetting his still had the phone recording. “You’re going camping.”

“That’s what I said.”

“And you’re not inviting me?”

Ludwig remained tight lipped. Yep, this was exactly how he foresaw it turning out.

“Unacceptable – how can you go camping and forget me?” Gilbert interrogated while pulling more dramatic zooms on his phone before his sibling gently pushed past.

“I wasn’t the one who decided it,” he stated simply and hoped it would be left at that.  
He was disheartened only for a short second before glee washed over him, prompting him to rush over to both Antonio and Lovino.

“Well, I’m deciding the invitation should be extended!” He announced, wrapping both arms around the two in the doorway.

“What?” Ludwig and Lovino both shouted.

“I know, I know, I’m pretty smart,” Gilbert chuckled and nodded sagely. “Just text Alfred and tell him that the eight has become eleven!”

Having struggled during this entire exchange, Lovino finally broke free of Gilbert’s hold. He backed himself against the wall and brushed himself down in a gesture fuelled by contempt.

“No way, I’m not about to spend this weekend stuffed in a dingy tent with you guys,” he insisted. Antonio did a remarkable impression of a wounded puppy.

“But I thought you didn’t want to be home alone, Lovi?”

It was Lovino’s turn to do an impression now, his face flushing a bright red that would’ve put any ripe tomato to shame.

“Shut up, I did not say that!”

“It’s settled!” Gilbert’s laughter grew until Lovino eventually lunged at both him and Antonio. The tackle sent all three of them toppling into a heap into the hotel corridor – a mixture of yelling and chuckling filling the air. Ludwig could only groan in irritation as he brought his hand to his forehead, pinching at his brow to soothe what was beginning to feel like the early stages of a headache.

“Gah, don’t break my phone, I need that!”

“I don’t care about your stupid phone, bastard!”

“Lovino, stop, you’re going to crush my leg—AGH!”

“Will you keep it down?” A fourth voice entered the uproar that silenced everyone. It was a surprise to no one that the commotion had attracted attention – especially from one of the most reclusive of their peers. Two rooms down was apparently where Switzerland was staying. His jade eyes leered daggers across the corridor, his face twisted in a scowl of repugnance.

“You’re going to get yourselves thrown out if you keep carrying on like wild animals,” he chastised. His eyes hardened when he saw Gilbert tear himself away from the pretzelled mess.

“A wild Swiss Hermit appeared,” he commented with an eagerness that worried Switzerland. Before Gilbert could invade his personal space with the phone camera, he pushed the device away, nearly knocking it out of the offending hand.

“Whatever, I’m leaving.”

A foot wedged itself between the door and the frame and prevented it from closing. Switzerland didn’t have a chance to collect himself before Gilbert pulled him from his hotel room and out into the corridor. Tucked tightly under the eccentric man’s arm, he tried desperately to hide his face from the phone camera.

“I had another stroke of genius!”

“Let go of me!”

“Eleven has now become twelve!”

“ _Bruder,_ ” Ludwig’s use of their shared native tongue meant serious business. “ _You can’t just invite whomever you please._ ”

“Nonsense! Hermit-boy needs to get out more – I’m doing him a favour!”

The hermit in question once again made an attempt to escape Gilbert’s clutches, but to no avail. The force with which he was pulled back with nearly caused their heads to collide.

“C’mon Antonio, Lovino, let’s go pack – we’ll supervise this one here so he doesn’t try to weasel out of it!”

Once the group had left the vicinity of Ludwig’s room, he shut the door with a deep fatigued exhale.

He was so very tired.

“I suppose I had better text Alfred… _Yes_ , that’s a good idea…”

What felt like an eternity to Basch, had only been a mere half an hour. Finally forcing the irritating albino and his friends out of the room, he was relieved to get some breathing space. He really hated people disturbing his privacy – especially when they were obnoxious, loud and had far too much unrestrained energy.

No sooner had he reclaimed his peace and quiet, however, the electronic room lock beeped and the door opened once again. Ready to curse Gilbert to high hell, Basch only got two words out when he noticed it was Lili.

“I-is everything alright?” Her voice was meek – he had startled her. “I heard shouting…”

“It was nothing; sorry for yelling,” Basch apologised and flopped backwards onto his bed.

Lili approached silently, observing the haphazardly stuffed backpack by the foot of her brother’s bed with her bright meadow eyes.

“Are you going out somewhere?” She queried.

“Camping,” Basch murmured. “Just for the weekend.”

His statement was followed by an exasperated groan. Why hadn’t he tried to resist the stupid Prussian more? Lili couldn’t help but raise her brows – she hadn’t heard him this annoyed in a while.

“You’ll be okay, right?” Basch turned his head to face her. “You’ve got some plans of your own, don’t you?”

Her gaze diverted to the floor while she fidgeted her fingers. She did have some ideas of what to do without her brother – but that was all they were. She hadn’t really made any arrangements, and while she had grown relatively independent of Basch as of late, she still enjoyed spending time with him. With that said, she didn’t want to smother him with her constant presence either. She nodded her head at her brother’s questions as she suppressed the knot in her gut.

“I… you have a safe trip, okay?”

Basch knew her well enough to know she was putting on her confidence for him. Though he felt he should say something, he wasn’t particularly good at finding the right words – even if she was essentially his little sister.

“I will, don’t worry,” was all he could say to reassure her.

 

“You did what?!”

The universe must’ve scheduled today to be his bad luck day, Alfred mused, as he dodged another precision aimed couch cushion. He caught his foot on the side-table, knocking it over and subsequently falling onto the carpet in an ungraceful heap.

“I’m sorry Mattie, really!” Alfred frantically babbled as he rolled onto his back. He covered his face with his arms as Matthew pummelled him with another cushion. “I didn’t mean to—OW! –forget about you, honest! Aah!”

“Just like you didn’t mean to invite half of Europe to my house for a camping trip in my country?” Matthew gave his brother another whack with the cushion. He was less than impressed. “Yeah, thanks very much, Al! What a wonderful brother you are!”

“Ow! Ow! Okay! I’m sorry, I just got carried away,” Alfred continued. Another whump in the face. “Alright, really carried away!”

Matthew yielded – inhaling a few deep breaths with the hopes of settling his temper.

“Do you want to come too?”

“Aw, how nice of you to ask!” Alfred almost grinned until he caught onto the maple-y sweet sarcasm. Matthew seemed to have abandoned the attack though, and had discarded his cushion, making his way over to fix the toppled side-table instead. “Honestly, Al, I don’t know how I live… next to you.” He had to think about that for a moment.

Since the conference had indeed taken place in Matthew’s land, Alfred had kindly been allowed to stay in his house as opposed to the hotel. Even in these instances where Matthew’s presence couldn’t possibly be overlooked or ignored, by some divine curse it still happened. Though, his invisibility had been declining over the recent years – he didn’t struggle as much to be heard in meetings, and more people were remembering who he was. But, like a bad habit, it made an occasional comeback.

“It’ll be fun, Mattie,” Alfred insisted, “There’ll be a fire, scary stories – _smores_! You love smores, don’t you?”

Matthew gave a defeated sigh, but not because the promise of smores was winning him over. For all his brother’s idiocy, he did really like the idea of going camping with the other nations. He wasn’t wrong about the anti-social state everyone had fallen into, and he lamented that he had drifted apart from a few of his own friends. They were just so busy – in the absence of war there were many other issues that needed their attention, among dealing with their own national affairs.

“Mattie…” Alfred pouted… and wobbled his lip. Matthew rolled his eyes.

“Alright, alright, I’ll come with,” he conceded. “But look, next time you try to organise something, you think it through properly, got it?”

“Hells yeah!”

He definitely didn’t get it.

“You’re lucky I have a heap of camping gear, y’know,” Matthew sighed, now satisfied that his living room had been righted. He left the room with Alfred in tow, seeking out the equipment they would need for the trip. Fossicking through the storage space underneath his stairwell, he pulled out a few rolled tarpaulins, stored tents and a couple of cardboard boxes. Alfred stared in slight wonder as his brother produced more supplies from the tiny storage space. Looking down at the box in his arms, he could see a thin layer of dust covering them; a clear indication that they had been hidden away for at least a few years. Words were scrawled over their tops in permanent marker, numerous crossed out and rewritten; the contents had changed over time apparently.

“Where are we going anyway?” Matthew asked from inside the deceptively sized cubby space. He didn’t have to ask about the ‘how’ part, since Alfred had returned that afternoon with a rather suspicious rental mini bus. He grew worried when Alfred didn’t reply. He poked his head back out to see his brother staring at the cardboard box like it held the secrets of the universe. “Don’t tell me you haven’t decided…”

“Well, I had a few places in mind,” he admitted, smiling like it wasn’t an issue. “Hey, don’t give me that look! Besides I think you’re gonna love it.”

“So where were you thinking?”

“Remember that old place we used to hang out together?” It was a very vague statement – he and Matthew used to hang out at a lot of old places once upon a time. So he elaborated, “Y’know, the one in the woods in that cute valley with the pond,” and Alfred could tell from the glimmer in his brother’s eyes that he remembered.

“Al, I… surely that place wouldn’t still be around,” Matthew said sceptically, his gaze grew distant. “It’s been… decades. And I’m pretty sure that ‘pond’ was actually a lake.”

“Well, even if that cabin collapsed, it’d still be a great place, don’t you think?”

Something about Matthew’s expression said he felt otherwise, or at least was uncertain. Alfred put it down to concerns over whether or not it was in the same condition as they remembered it. Before either of them could say another word, there was a knock at Matthew’s front door.

“Oh, that must be everyone!” Alfred placed the cardboard box that he had been cradling down and made for the door. Matthew was glad he had a rather sizeable home, as twelve of his fellow nations gradually made their way indoors, greeting him as they passed with their belongings. Quickly the house had become quite lively and crowded – especially in the hallway where some of the camping equipment was still blocking the way. Matthew gently directed everyone through to the lounge, so as not to have anyone trip over the gear.

“Oh dear, Alfred sprung this on you, didn’t he?” Arthur remarked rather apologetically as he noticed the Canadian’s slightly overwhelmed demeanour.

“I guess you could say that, yeah…”

“I’m sorry for our intrusion, Matthew,” Kiku bowed his head slightly while also trying to avoid being pushed over by a passing Gilbert. “I hope this isn’t causing you too much of an inconvenience.”

“It’s okay, I think this could be a lot of fun,” he laughed softly; grateful for the eastern nation’s concern.

“If you say so.” Arthur didn’t seem completely convinced.

“Though, I don’t think I’ve got enough spare beds for everyone…”

The house was quiet by midnight after enough chaos to nearly warrant a visit from the police. Matthew and Alfred managed to make some kind of bed for everyone – leaving the home devoid of any free cushions or pillows. The two were yet to retire themselves. Instead they had opted to go over a couple of maps to plot their destination.

“We could Google Map it, maybe?” Alfred offered in the softest voice he could manage.

“Doubt it’d even be on there, Al.” He scrutinised one of the older fold out maps under the dim kitchen counter light. He traced a finger along an insignificant road, “this might be the best way.”

“Cool, I’ll drive?” Alfred was ready to take the map when there was a frantic bashing sound coming from the hallway. “Is that coming from the front door?”

“At nearly one in the morning?”

“Your cops are slow if they’re responding to a noise complaint this… late…” Alfred shrugged, and then paused. His eyes went wide and he made a rather colourful sentence of curses.

“What? What is it?” Matthew asked, but never received an answer as Alfred rushed out of the room. He followed along behind, poking his head around the corner into the corridor.

“I can’t believe you actually stooged me,” came Jack’s all too loud voice. Matthew held back a laugh as he watched the tall Australian enter the house.

“Ssh, everyone’s sleeping!” Jack’s eyebrows could’ve gone into orbit at Alfred’s bold statement. “And, hey, I didn’t stooge you – I just sorta, got carried away by the…” he trailed off, apparently lost for any sort of decent comeback. “Okay I forgot, but you’re here now, right?”

“Only ‘cause I happened to notice the hotel was practically empty,” Jack retorted, and dumped his khaki rucksack onto the floor by the other bags. “I trust y’got everythin’ sorted out?”

“Of course, I’ve always got things sorted,” Alfred claimed.

“He’s lying; he needs me to figure out where we’re even going,” Matthew corrected.

“I thought it’d be somethin’ like that,” Jack nodded. “So where are we headed?”

“Still figuring out those details, if I’m honest…”

“Ah, c’mon Matt, you can’t be as hopeless as Al here!” The Australian jived. “Which reminds me, how many people did you manage to invite?”

“You mean take hostage—" Alfred nudged his brother with his elbow.

“Well it was nine, including me – but somehow by the end of the night we ended up with thirteen…” Alfred said whilst counting out on his hands. “With you, that’ll make fourteen.”

“Fair dinkum – it’s a good thing I brought a lot of beer.”

The two brothers leaned over to see behind Jack where a couple of cartons of beer were stacked by the door. Adding it to the already substantial pile of supplies they had accumulated, the trio eventually splintered off for the night.

Matthew settled into bed and cuddled Kumajiro close – his companion polar bear seemingly unaffected by the hubbub that had taken place.

“Nervous?” they asked, twitching their black nose inquisitively. Kumajiro always knew what Matthew was really feeling – he never had to say anything.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he whispered. He didn’t know why he felt uneasy. Maybe it was because it had been a long time since they’d done something like this together. Nevertheless, the tension in his gut persisted.

Tomorrow would be a big day, filled with the promise of adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You...
> 
> I've been a bit out of touch with the Hetalia fandom, so if this seems like it's been slingshot straight from 2011, I'm so sorry. This is a story I've been sitting on for just as long, and I just wanted to write something whimsical and lighthearted... if horror stories can be lighthearted. I spent a bit of time reading on the do's and don'ts of Hetalia fanfics, and scared myself a little bit before deciding what the hell, I'm just going to write this beast.  
> I'll be working on this gradually since a few peers of mine have been interested in this story. I hope that more of you will come along for the wild ride I have planned for our beloved nation-personas.  
> Let me know your thoughts and I'll see you in the next chapter xx


	2. a pact is made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some slang in here that I didn't realise were uniquely Australian until I started editing it on AO3!
> 
> 'Maddog' (mad dog) - term for someone who is wild and crazy.  
> 'Eskies' - A brand of portable cooler container/ice-box, but we literally refer to every cooler as an esky regardless of whether or not it is one.

_Matthew pushed back the needle-y leaves of the juniper bushes that blocked his path. He had grown tired of this game of hide-and-seek – Alfred had somehow stayed hidden for almost an hour! It was getting cold – the sun had started to set – and his thick jacket was struggling to keep the chill out. Matthew wondered if he should head back to the house without him and let Arthur give him an earful for being out late. While it would’ve been funny, he didn’t have the heart to do that._

_He was just about ready to start calling for his brother when a sound distracted him from the thick brush nearby._

_‘He knows we’re not supposed to go past the tree-line!’ Matthew thought to himself frantically._

_There was movement - some twigs snapped._

_“Al?”_

_The rustling stopped._

_Curious, and perhaps a tiny bit scared, Matthew approached the tall shrubs. The leaves were packed close together and betrayed none of their secrets inside._

_“Alfred?” He tried again, but his voice was so quiet he didn’t know if he had even said it out loud. He brought his hand up to the bushes and mustered his courage and strength to part them._

_“This isn’t fun anym—”_

_Something grabbed his arm._

“Dude settle down, it’s just me!”

It took the Canadian a few seconds to register that he was inside the mini-bus; Alfred was seated beside him in the driver’s seat. His face flushed when he realised he’d almost clocked his brother in the jaw whilst waking up. Alfred eased his one-handed grip on the offending arm as Matthew took a deep breath.

“You have a bad dream or somethin’, bro?” He asked, his tone slightly amused.

“S-something like that… Sorry…” Matthew turned his attention to the window. Now properly awake, he remembered that they were on the road headed to their destination. Before they had left town, Alfred had made sure to stop at the supermarket to gather any remaining supplies they were lacking. After that ordeal, there hadn’t been much else to do since getting onto the highway and Matthew had dozed off. How he had managed to do so was anyone’s guess, especially when almost all the other passengers were singing, yelling or talking over one another.

Matthew glanced over his shoulder to all the other nations behind him. Lovino had claimed the back seat all to himself, while Francis, Antonio and Gilbert sat in the row in front. Ludwig, Feliciano, Kiku and Arthur occupied the following row, with Ivan, Yao, Jack and Basch after that.

“Lovi, you should come sit here so you can be in the photo,” Antonio laughed, trying to reach for the brunette who was reclining to avoid him.

“I don’t want photographic evidence of me being here with you idiots,” he returned as he shot a glare towards Gilbert.

“Whatever, I’ll just paste a cut-out of you in the pic later!” Gilbert flipped his phone around and was trying to get everyone into frame. “Hey assholes, look at the camera!”

“Canada,” Ivan addressed with a worrying smile on his face. “How wide do these windows open?”

“U-um, I’m not sure? Why?” He wasn’t used to the tall nation speaking to him so directly and felt somewhat unnerved under his enigmatic stare.

Ivan gestured to Gilbert who was now awkwardly leaning backwards over one of the seats.

“I want to know if I’ll have to break him into smaller pieces in order to throw him out,” he said in such a sweet matter-of-fact tone that Matthew wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not. Yao looked disturbed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give him adequate warning of course!”

“That does not comfort me at all,” Yao muttered. “Australia, can we please swap seats?”

Jack broke from his conversation with Basch – which appeared to have been largely one-sided as the blonde nation cast Yao a desperate look, mouthing ‘save me’.

Matthew was glad that despite the banter, so far things had been going smoothly. He lamented that Kumajiro had been unwilling to come along, however. He had tried everything to get his companion to follow, but no amount of begging, bribing or pushing could get the bear to move from the house. Eventually Matthew had given up and allowed for his bear to stay at home. It wasn’t like Kumajiro wasn’t able to take care of themselves – it was only a weekend after all – he just valued their company.

But this would be a good opportunity, he told himself, to reconnect with everyone he had been too busy to see.

“That’s the turn off up ahead, right?” Alfred’s voice snapped him from his reverie. Quickly pulling out the crumpled map from his hoodie pocket, Matthew confirmed their whereabouts.

“That should be it.”

Exiting the highway and onto a smaller side road, they began to ascend up a slope and into the woods. The neglect to the road became more apparent as the asphalt gradually became more bumpy and cracked. Eventually the asphalt turned to gravel, and Alfred was forced to slow down the vehicle. The mini-bus trundled along, jostling side-to-side like a junior fairground ride as it passed over each pot-hole and stone. Matthew could see the blooming wildflowers that blanketed the edges of the gravel road – their vibrant hues like paint splatters on earth’s green and brown canvas. He heard Kiku say something in Japanese, the older nation visibly taken by the sight of the forest; Matthew felt his chest swell with pride.

The bus rattled rather violently as it dipped over a shallow ditch. Matthew steadied himself and readjusted his glasses that had been jostled askew.

“Just a speed hump, don't panic!” Alfred chimed, as if it were nothing.

“Aren’t speed humps meant to be… well, humps?” Arthur spoke for the first time in hours. His question was promptly ignored. Gazing out the windows he could see the ditch they had driven through – it looked more like a trench really. It cast a stark dark line through the gravel and through the greenery surrounding them. It soon fell out of sight and was forgotten.

Alfred brought the bus to a halt where the gravel had finally petered out. From this point forward the trees had grown closer together; the gaps were far too narrow for any vehicle to pass through.

“Didn’t this used to go all the way in?” He muttered, glancing around from the driver’s seat to make sure he didn’t miss an alternate route.

“It might’ve just gotten overgrown, it has been a long time after all,” Matthew suggested. “I don’t think we’re too far away from that place, though. We could probably walk there.”

With no other option to be seen, Alfred accepted this and shut off the engine.

“Alright gang,” Alfred slapped his hands on the back of the seat to gain everyone’s attention. “The rest of the journey is on foot, so grab your bags and let’s get moving!”

There was a distinct groan of protest from the back of the bus. Feliciano however, who had apparently fallen asleep despite the jerky ride, was now wide awake and buzzing with anticipation. He flung himself out the door and into the crisp fresh air the second it had opened. Twirling about with an energy that was a stark contrast from seconds before, his whole body threatened to fall over into the patch of wildflowers. Ludwig swiftly reached out and stopped him from doing just that.

“You forgot your vest,” he commented as he threw the puffy blue garment around him. The shorter man giggled, feeling a tad overwhelmed with glee and quite possibly dizziness. He steadied himself against a large boulder that was an arm’s length away as he allowed Ludwig to zip the vest up.

Everyone unloaded from the bus - relishing in the chance to finally stretch their limbs and get their blood circulating.

Ensuring the vehicle’s interior held no forgotten belongings, Alfred locked the door and made his way towards the trailer where the bulk of their things were stored. The trailer screamed when he opened the hatch. It was a very feminine scream and one that Basch recognised so easily that he was overcome with disbelief. He ran to the trailer where Alfred stood bewildered and pushed the taller nation aside.

“Lili?!”

He could only stare, wide-eyed and frozen as his little sister emerged from the pile of bags and eskies. She hopped down onto the ground, her legs wobbling slightly as she nearly fell over. Basch took hold of her shoulders to steady her; her body still feeling the bumpy motions of the drive.

“You spent the whole two-hour drive in there?!” Alfred exclaimed.

“Switzy, your sis is a maddog,” Jack whistled and slapped his hand on the roof of the metal trailer.  

“Basch you monster, why did you have dear Lili hide with the bags?” Francis accused.

Ivan started to laugh. Basch was frankly horrified. He could barely comprehend how she managed to remain undiscovered during their brief stop at the supermarket, let alone endure such a rough journey in a terribly confined space. Lili looked briefly frantic, then sheepish – she barely believed it herself.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do,” she confessed quickly. “I was going to go back home like you said, but after I saw everyone had left, I just… I just…”

“You should’ve just asked,” her brother stated. Lili avoided his reprimanding eyes; she wasn’t totally convinced he would’ve agreed to let her come if she asked. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”

“I know…” she agreed, lamely. She could feel a pang of regret in her chest as she watched her brother huff. He was definitely mad at her now.

“What Hermit-boy is _trying_ to say is that he’s glad you’re here, because now he doesn’t have to face the party alone,” Gilbert interjected, ignoring the leer that was immediately sent his way. “Now, can we get moving? My legs feel like they’ve atrophied from sitting in that shitty bus so long.”

“I second that!” Jack clapped his hands together. “Everybody come and get y’bags!” 

Jack started to pass the luggage out one at a time. Like a well-oiled machine, everyone’s belongings were distributed with rapid efficiency – until he held out Lovino’s canvas bag. The irate brunette simply looked away, arms crossed over his chest.

“Is it too heavy, Lovi? Did you want me to carry it for you?” The Spaniard grinned as Lovino’s expression darkened with indignation.

“Idiot, I didn’t want to come on this trip in the first place! It’s only fair you carry my stuff as compensation.”

“It’s okay Lovino, I put some of my things in Ludwig’s bag so that mine wasn’t so heavy!” Feliciano gave his brother a consoling pat on the back while Antonio relieved Jack of the burden.

After everyone’s personal luggage had been collected, Jack started to distribute the various camping supplies. Between himself, Ivan and Alfred, the bulk of the gear was taken care of. What was left of the eskies and beer slabs was easily carried by the remainder of the group, and with that, the fifteen nations began their trek.

Matthew and Alfred took the lead, following the remnants of a dirt track into the woods. Despite what must’ve been years of disuse, there was still some form to the pathway that allowed them to navigate with some ease. Compared to the lively chatter that filled the bus ride there, the group travelled in amicable silence as they observed and soaked in the peace of the woodlands around them. Trees both skinny and wide stretched achingly up to the sky, blotting out its vast blueness with their endless shades of green as the leaves sighed against the subtle breeze.

Matthew had been right when he said that the place wasn’t far. The path had disappeared beneath them, replaced instead with a thin layer of underbrush that crunched delicately under each of their shoes. Soon after they passed through a line of taller bushes and entered into a thicket. The trees were spread apart around them, forming a near circular clearing – the sky now fully visible above. It looked different to how Matthew remembered it. In fact, he was almost certain that he was mistaken, but Alfred instantly staked it as ‘the spot’ and rushed into the middle of the clearing to deposit his stuff.

“This is it! Base camp, my dudes!” Alfred declared proudly. “Sooner we set up, the sooner we can par-tay!”

“Hold on, how are we organising tent groups?” Arthur inquired. “Are we pairing up? What’s the deal?”

Alfred looked to Matthew for a prompt. It seemed he had overlooked this part also. The Canadian sighed and examined their gear.

“We’ve got five tents, so since there’s fifteen of us we can divide into groups of three,” he explained. There were a few nods around the group, but an air of uncertainty persisted.

“Ooh no,” Basch growled, suddenly aware of the implications. “I’m not letting anyone else share a tent with Lili, got it?” He glanced around the circle, giving Francis in particular a pointed glare. He also gave one to Ivan, but not for nearly as long. 

“But, Basch-”

“No buts – she’s my sister, and I don’t trust any of you to be sharing a tent with her.”

Matthew was a bit offended at that, but he had to respect Basch’s stance. Lili was an unexpected addition to their get-together; had he known in advance he would’ve made sure she had her own tent. It wasn’t like Basch couldn’t sleep between his sister and whoever else ended up sharing with them, but Matthew didn’t feel like he could make that suggestion without winding up at gunpoint. He knew the man had a habit of keeping a firearm on-hand at all times, and although Matthew was curious to see if he was currently armed, he wasn't feeling gutsy enough to find out.

Lili watched the proceedings without saying a word.

“This got a bit more complicated…” Matthew hummed. “I mean, the tent can fit four people, but it’ll just be a bit… um… snug.”

What was initially an agreeable albeit tense discussion, became rowdy in a heartbeat. No one could come to a consensus on who to group up with – especially since one group would have to squish together for a fourth person. Their voices continued to rise, until – surprisingly – it was Kiku who shouted, “Everyone, be quiet!” He looked more ruffled than the others did at his own behaviour and his dark eyes instantly drew away.

“Why don’t we draw sticks,” he proceeded, back at his normal soft volume. During the dispute, Kiku had gathered up a handful of sticks. “The people who pick ones of the same length will tent together.”

Even though it was the most logical and fair way to go about the predicament, there was a widespread feeling of disdain. Nevertheless, Kiku walked around the group with the sticks in his hands and each person who went to make a selection closed their eyes. Once Kiku was left with only one stick, everyone exchanged glances and measured theirs against one another.

“Oh no, no, no!” Lovino backed away from the group. “I can handle one idiot, but _two_?”

Apparently, he, Antonio and Gilbert had drawn similar length sticks.

“You absolutely won’t be escaping my blog pics now!” Gilbert laughed raucously. “Yo, Francis, who’d you get?”

The Frenchman was one of the few who were smiling – he gestured towards Feliciano who was joyously hugging Ludwig. “I truly got the luck of the draw, no?”

“Oh boy,” Arthur said while drawing a long breath. “This is going to a very long camping trip.”

“Speak for yourself." Yao turned his nose up at the Brit. "Kiku, you’re the only one who’s going to make this bearable.” The statement caused Kiku to avert his eyes in disinterest.

“Hey, what’s that meant to mean?” Jack opened his arms out as if to invite debate. “You should feel honoured – I’ve got loads of camping experience under my belt.”

All eyes eventually fell upon the remaining trio. Ivan and Alfred were sharing layered gazes at one another while Matthew simply tried to ignore the growing chill around them.

“Let’s just get through this weekend smoothly, yeah?” Alfred proposed with a forced grin.

“Of course, my _friend_ , I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Ivan returned, voice dripping with saccharine sarcasm.

“H-how about I sleep in the middle?” Matthew suggested as he righted his glasses. The tension defused perhaps by a mere fraction. Eager to escape the beginnings of the Second Cold War, Matthew began distributing the tents.

With their equipment in hand, they splintered off to commence construction. Arthur’s group worked the most cohesively and were the first to finish. Basch and Lili were a close second, as they always tended to cooperate with one another without much issue. Everyone else staggered behind. Ludwig’s group had relegated the task solely to him, while Feliciano was off scouting the clearing. Francis simply sat back and watched. Antonio’s group almost went down the same route, as Gilbert was too preoccupied filming the whole ordeal on his phone while Lovino insisted that the Spaniard was doing it all wrong.

“Ugh, just let me do it!” He groaned and proceeded to offer his assistance.

Matthew’s group maintained a stressful silence, punctuated occasionally by his attempts to prompt a friendly conversation between them. The resulting discussion died very quickly and before long Matthew gave up on trying to get the two to play nice.

At long last, their tents were established – oriented in a semi-circle that faced the centre of the thicket where Alfred had started working on a campfire. Briefly abandoning his effort, he climbed onto the stump that was sitting beside the meagre collection of kindling. With one of the longer branches in his hand, he bashed the improvised apparatus on the stump to call attention.

“Now, before we officially get this shindig underway I wanted to call one final meeting,” he announced. No one really had any clue what Alfred had to say, so they listened. He cleared his throat with a touch of exaggeration.

“Speech, speech, speech!” Jack chanted until Arthur nudged him in the ribs.

“On this day,” Alfred began – his voice loud and strangely austere. There were a few whispered ‘oh dear’s and ‘here we go’s before he proceeded. “I hereby declare us to be men!”

Francis made an exaggerated cough before gesturing slightly to Lili. Her face flushed from being noticed all of a sudden and Basch soon stepped in between his sister and everyone's watchful stare.

“And woman,” Alfred corrected himself. “As such, on this weekend no one is to refer to anyone by their country name, nor will we discuss any matters of business or affairs of state. No grim history talk; no politics talk.”

For all his aloofness in the past 24-hours, Alfred’s speech commanded an odd level of seriousness.

Until he got to the end, anyway.

“Only fun, excessive boozing and general shenaniganry are permitted henceforth – anyone who violates this sacred pact will be… uh…”

“Thrown naked into the lake!” Jack hooted.  

“Sure, we’ll go with that.”

“Wait, you telling me there’s a _lake?_ ” Gilbert was deeply interested by this piece of information. Apparently not everyone had been informed about it.

“Alright, everybody in!” Alfred hopped down from the stump and struck his arm out – palm down. There was some reluctance, before a universal shrug of ‘why the hell not?’ and one by one they put a hand in. Gilbert was still trying to extract details about the lake when Antonio pulled a hesitant Lovino in to join the circle. Basch was left as the odd one out, standing a short distance away. He seemed adamant in avoiding the whole affair, but with one pleading look from Lili, he caved, and gingerly placed his own hand on the rest.

With a resounding cheer, they lifted their hands up into the air and the agreement was made.

The party had just begun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you...  
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I've been trying to keep an eye on which characters have been given the most actions; I find that some are easier to write than others. Gilbert and Jack are the biggest hooligans and I can't deny how much fun I have writing them - they have a habit of stealing the spotlight and starting rave with it. I'll do my best to try and give the quieter characters an equal chance.  
> Things are about to get exciting, so I hope you stay tuned!  
> Let me know your thoughts, and I wish you all a lovely weekend xx


	3. a ripple is formed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've become aware that some of the human names of particular nations are not entirely accurate - but they're also the names that I'm most familiar with while being in the fandom. I hope that this doesn't detract too heavily from the experience of the story. Thank you kindly for your continued support; I hope that you enjoy the chapter.

Lili had come to the glaring realisation that she had made a terrible mistake. This thought occurred to her as she sat just outside her and Basch’s tent, watching the rest of the group go about the setup of the campsite. Everyone was doing something, whether it was gathering kindling for the campfire, organising the food and water, or arranging seats from logs and fold-out chairs. With all that was going on, Lili wasn’t sure where she fit into it.

Now, the out-of-place sensation had nothing to do with their environment. Matthew’s homeland was bigger, but the rolling hills and mountains were a familiar and reassuring sight. After all, her home was also surrounded by beautiful peaks and vibrant forests. The part that jarred her, surprisingly, was the lack of reception and modern amenities. For sure, she had been without these things before – she had been camping with Basch on several occasions, and with Eliza and Katyusha in the past. Lately, however, a lot of her time had been spent on less adventurous activities. She figured many of the other nations here were still quite well adjusted to camping – either because of experience through their long age, or because they were used to it from the war days.

It was beginning to unravel in her mind that she was probably out of her depth. She hadn’t exactly come prepared for such an occasion. The regret of stowing away with everyone’s luggage was growing with every passing second – ‘why on earth did I do that?’ – and Lili began to fear she’d fall into a panic.

Lili remembered back to the previous night, when Basch was finally dragged from his room by Gilbert and Antonio. She remembered that awful feeling of being left behind as she stood alone in that hotel room. She remembered waiting up until almost midnight, staring at her bag and contemplating her next course of action. She didn’t want to cling to her brother, but she was painfully intrigued and quite frankly bored with the idea of just going back home. She wanted to see what the fuss was about – wanted to be a part of it, whatever _it_ was. She may have been a social person, but she hadn’t really worked on extending her existing acquaintanceship. This was a great opportunity, even if it was daunting. So, she had swallowed her doubts and took the plunge.

Lili breathed in deep and relaxed her shoulders, shaking out the tension in her arms. She was here to get to know more of her fellow nations – to make new friends and to have fun. She reminded herself of that reason, repeating it to herself like a mantra as she psyched herself up to join the others.

“Ay Lili!” Jack’s loud voice caused the blonde to nearly jump out of her skin. “Sorry, didn’t mean ‘ta scare you.” The taller nation sat himself down beside her.

“I-it’s alright,” she stammered, instinctively pressing a palm to her chest to settle her frightened heart. “I was just, um, daydreaming.”

“Well, I was gonna ask if you wanted to come find this lake with us,” the Australian offered. “You don’t have to swim or nothin’; I think Kiku and Arthur were gonna go walking there.”

“Oh, uh…” Lili wasn’t sure how to word the violent somersaults her stomach was doing. Maybe she was still motion-sick from the epic two-hour trailer ride? She was truthfully ecstatic for the invitation, but also apprehensive about the swim part. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to swim, that honestly sounded fun. But what was she going to swim in? The guys were probably just going to jump in with their underwear on – but she couldn’t do that, could she? The idea alone was making her face flush in alarm.

“Oh dear, what have you done Jack?” Francis inquired as he approached the two. “Is Wannabe-Dundee trying to hit on you, sweet Lili?”

“Ouch… speak for yourself, Sir Bangsalot,” Jack quipped back. “I was just trying to be friendly and inclusive since Basch is doing a terrible job at it.”

“He just worries about me,” Lili excused. She fidgeted with her fingers as she spoke. “I caused him a lot of stress sneaking away like I did. It was terribly rude and troublesome of me to have come without asking…”

“Don’t be silly. Basch seems to have this complex that people are out to get you. He just needs to relax,” Francis insisted. “You shouldn’t have to ask him if you wanted to come along.”

Jack was nodding in agreement.

“He’s allowed to be worried about you, but he can’t stop you from doing what you want. But hey, in the end it’s your call, kiddo.”

Jack stood up and dusted off the back of his shorts. It seemed that everyone else was getting ready to head for the lake. As he and Francis went over to join them, Lili pondered over their words. Not wanting to be left behind, she made her decision and quickly went to retrieve a spare set of clothes.

It was clear that Matthew and Alfred had very different memories of the lake. It was only a short trek downhill from base camp; travelling in a relatively straight line it took less than ten minutes to get there. The trees and shrubs became more spread out as they neared the bottom of the incline, until finally they crossed onto the stony foreshore.

At this point, Matthew was almost convinced that they were camping somewhere other than their old spot. His memory of the lake was definitely bigger than the ‘pond’ Alfred had been raving about – but the layout and geography didn’t align to the fragmented image in his mind. He could recall the forest being denser, darker; the shore narrower and the water much darker. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, a vision from a different season, or merely that time had altered the land more than he had anticipated.

Matthew noticed a short wooden jetty leading out from the rocky shore that had not been there in his memories. The dark, ashen wood was weathered and splintering, indicating it had existed here for at least a good few years. Several of the planks were warped; curling and bending to break free from their rusted shackles. He was unsure of the jetty’s stability, but no one waited to test whether it was safe or not. Ivan had already walked across it halfway and the wood hadn’t complained under his weight. However, it began to groan a slight protest as Arthur and Ludwig climbed aboard, but nothing more. 

“How peaceful,” Ivan said after a wistful breath. He smiled towards Matthew who had joined him, staring out at the calm water, lost in his thoughts. “It would be nice to do some fishing.”

“We could always go around the other side, if you’d like? I didn’t exactly bring any fishing equipment though.” He tapped his chin contemplatively. “Maybe we could improvise with something?”

“Perhaps. But I feel like all this noise might frighten the fish away, no?” Ivan gestured back to the shore as he spoke.

“Badass! There’s a rope swing!” Gilbert exclaimed. He began to run to his discovery with Jack and Antonio following at his heels. A hectic race broke out as the three men tried pulling one another back from their end destination. Atop a few boulders dangling beneath an overhanging tree branch was indeed a rope swing. Just like the jetty it was showing signs of age. Even from this distance he could see the braided material was frayed and discoloured. 

Sounds of a violent scuffle erupted from the bushes. Antonio had tripped on a loose rock and had slid back to the bottom of the embankment. Jack immediately ended his pursuit to see if he was alright, which left Gilbert to win the race unchallenged.

“Hold my jumper,” he instructed to no one in particular, as he threw his light-grey hoodie aside. It landed on one of the juniper bushes down below looking like a deflated ghost against the emerald leaves.

“Gil maybe you should be careful with that—“ Ludwig cautioned but was cut off by his brother’s tank top dropping on his face.

“This ought to be entertaining,” Ivan chuckled to himself. He made himself comfortable at the end of the jetty, removing his shoes and socks to dangle his feet into the water.

“Well, I don’t want to be witness to a horrible accident,” Arthur excused himself and began to walk away. Kiku, who already didn’t fancy taking a swim, joined him with Yao and Francis. Basch saw this as a chance to avoid the rest of the commotion and followed the four at a distance.

“Now Gilbert, didn’t you ever learn not to jump headfirst into open bodies of water?” Jack asked, even though he was also undressing and lining up to use the rope swing. Alfred too had become part of the queue after Antonio abandoned the post for the shore instead.

“Well, _ja_ , but I’m awesome enough not to break my legs!”

And that was that as the white-haired man backed up a few metres from the rope. He put an excessive amount of effort into his movements and ran full speed for the edge, grabbed the rope and took a leap. He felt himself become weightless as he flew through the mild air over the dark, glassy lake. Feliciano cheered excitedly from the shoreline.

Then there was a distinct sharp snapping sound and Gilbert wasn’t weightless anymore.

He was still flying, he supposed, but he was also hurtling straight for the water. His elated ‘yeaaaah!’ turned into a mildly terrified ‘aaargh!’, before his flailing body shattered the lake’s surface with as much grace as a crashing race car. 

“Gilbert, you fat-arse!” Jack shouted, even though he was laughing. “Alf was meant to be the one to break the rope, not you!”

“Hey!” Alfred gave him a playful shove.

Gilbert resurfaced with a gasp that was more like a squeal which resounded off the hills in fading mockery. 

“Fuck it’s cold!” He started to swim back to shore, alternating between strokes until he was doing some kind of frenzied dog-paddle. “How do your people swim in this, Mattie?!” He asked as he reached the jetty.

“Thick skin?” He supposed while trying to suppress his chuckles. “At least we’re still in the right time of year for it.”

“I do recall that you’ve swum in colder water than this, Gilbert” Ivan reminded in a sing-song voice. “You’ve gotten a bit soft.”

“And you’re about to get wet!” Gilbert splashed water up at the Russian, making sure to avoid hitting Matthew. Ivan was about to retaliate with a water attack of his own when a ball bounced off the back of his head.

“Oi, remember the rules!” Alfred yelled from the top of the rocks. He waggled a finger in a ‘no-no’ gesture at Ivan who shallowly masked his disdain with a smile. “The only fighting here is in sports!”

Gilbert was on his way to retrieve the ball from the shallows when Feliciano and Lovino came crashing past, kicking up waves on the way. They tousled for the prize, getting deeper into the lake until the water reached their chests. Lovino threw himself backward and thrust his leg through the surface, landing a well-placed kick that sent the ball soaring up towards the rocks. Alfred launched himself off the ledge where the rope swing had been, hoping to catch the ball as it ricocheted back over the water. His timing was way off and instead he cannon-balled a few metres from the trio. Matthew and Ivan quickly leaned apart the moment they heard thundering steps across the jetty. Antonio dove off the end and made a clean entry; his sights set on the ball now drifting out towards the middle of the lake.

“Pass it, ‘Tonio!” Jack called as he prepared to jump off the rock. Antonio snatched the ball away from Lovino who cursed angrily. Now in too deep to stand, Antonio threw the ball over his head towards Jack who had just taken to the air. He caught it between both hands right before disappearing underwater.

They began playing an improvised game that was something of a cross between water polo and European football. Antonio tied the broken ends of the rope to two protruding branches of a sunken tree to form a makeshift goal. The jetty was quickly dubbed the goal for the shallows team. No one formally arranged the sides, they kind of just happened. Lovino and Feliciano were well coordinated at stealing the ball from Gilbert and Antonio, particularly when they were closer to the shore and could use their feet. Jack proved to be exceptionally good at treading water and was relegated the task of goalkeeping for the deep-end team. Alfred joined the Italian brothers, even after Gilbert forced Ivan to be their side’s goalkeeper. Ludwig seemed content to referee until Feliciano begged him to be a player.

“Wait, why do you have all the macho?” Antonio queried as he stopped passing the ball and counted the players.

“Yeah, he’s right, what the hell?” Jack shouted.

“Ludwig, you traitor! Mattie, get your arse in here, we need you!” Gilbert signalled to the Canadian who was still seated beside Ivan.

“I’m saddened; are you really going to join the losing team?” Ivan inquired with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. He watched the shorter blonde rise to his feet and kick off his shoes.

“I suppose this way they might have slightly better odds of not getting flogged,” Matthew remarked as he set aside his hoodie and shirt. He swam across to the deep-end team that cheered at his arrival.

“Alright losers, it’s on!” Gilbert declared, throwing his arms up to receive the ball from his teammate.

As the game commenced to the symphony of excited yelling and jeering, a nervous figure emerged from the trees. She went unnoticed by the rowdy men as they went about their fierce battle for sporting dominance. Stepping onto the stony foreshore with her now bare feet, she was undecided on how to proceed. Lili felt herself shiver – Basch’s black shirt was long, but still only covered the top half of her thighs. She hoped he wouldn’t mind her borrowing it, or getting it wet for that matter.

The rocks clinked under the impact of the bouncing ball until it came to a silent stop at her feet. Soon all eyes were on her and Lili felt the desperate urge to run back towards the trees.

“Yo, Lili, pass it!” Jack encouraged.

“And kick it into Ivan’s fat head while you’re at it!” Gilbert ducked underwater before he could receive a glare.

Lili picked up the ball; the synthetic material was cold and damp between her palms. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to kick it very far, but she would at least try. She did a run-up, dropped the ball and booted it with as much force as she could muster. It made a satisfying thump against the top of her foot and she was impressed with her effort until it struck an unsuspecting Alfred in the side of the face.

Gilbert began to laugh maniacally and shouted, “I’m calling dibs – Lili on our team, _now!_ ”

“Hello? Are you listening?”

Arthur had been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed Francis’s hand waving in front of his face. Apparently, he had stopped in his tracks and fallen behind the rest of the group that had gone walking with him. Yao and Kiku had moved further up ahead to admire the blooms of fireweed growing on the embankments. Basch listened to their conversation in silence, his eyes focusing on the swaying leaves in the trees overhead. They had walked nearly a quarter of the distance around the lake, the edges of which were occasionally blanketed by trees and foliage.

“Honestly, Arthur. What’s up with you today? You’ve been spacing out since we got here.” For once, Francis was being more concerned than derisive, and Arthur wasn’t certain if that annoyed him more.

“Doesn’t it seem quiet to you?” Arthur asked. It was a tone that screamed a desire for validation.

“Well, yes, but isn’t that the point of being out here in the wild? To get away from the noise of modern life…” Francis had started gesticulating and he knew then that the Frenchman hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“If you want my opinion, it’s not quiet enough,” Basch shared.

Even at their distance, the voices of the other nations carried easily across the open water. Whatever game they were playing had riled them up in such a way that Arthur could’ve easily believed a sporting stadium was nearby. That was beside his point, though. Despite the shouting that echoed over the water, there was something that Arthur couldn’t shake from his mind.

“I haven’t heard a single bird since we’ve arrived.” He stated at the risk of sounding manic. He was relieved that they were looking at least somewhat pensive over his remark.

“The way you stomp around, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve all flown away.” Francis grinned at the annoyed expression he was returned with.

“Says you who screamed at a leech not five minutes ago,” Arthur growled back. He proceeded to make an exaggerated re-enactment of the incident and Yao snickered in recollection.

“You’re cruel. If you had that blood-thirsty thing reaching out for you, I’m sure you would have screamed too!” Francis said defensively. Kiku hadn’t made a sound, but he was doing a bad job of hiding the grin on his face. Basch coughed and averted his eyes. “Ugh you’re all awful. Just wait until one of you gets bitten – then I’ll be the one laughing.”

“Why don’t we go and prepare something to eat?” Kiku suggested, before anything could further escalate. “I don’t think anyone has had any lunch yet.”

“You’re right, that’s probably a good idea,” Arthur agreed.

“A wonderful suggestion, Kiku; I was starting to get a stomach ache.” Francis nodded along in approval.

Arthur decided to refrain from further expressing his concerns, seeing as no one else had taken notice of the forest’s peculiar muteness. He was more than happy to return to base camp where there were at least of signs of life.

“Nah, nah, y’can’t do that, that’s against the bloody rules!”

“There were no rules against stacking our players, what’re you talking about?” Alfred was about to shrug when Lovino gave a warning tap on his back.

“Hold still, dumbass!”

“Yeah, but you can’t make a stack of three, that’s cheating!” Gilbert booed, but Lovino climbed on top of Feliciano’s shoulders anyway. They were now standing in an awkward tower in the shallows – the Italian brothers both supported by Alfred’s strength – hooting like champions despite the fact their team was in fact losing.

“Mattie, get over here, Lili and I are climbing aboard,” Gilbert ordered while trying to stay afloat. Matthew’s eyes went wide out of surprise and fear, because even without his answer Gilbert was bobbing across the water like a shark to prey.

“Are you crazy? Gilbert wait, we’ll sink!”

Arthur’s group had promptly returned to the foreshore to be greeted by the extraordinary sight of the wallowing nations. Francis whistled at the Italo-American tower as they swayed around dangerously.

“I’m almost sad to have missed this,” Yao commented. “Why didn’t you decide to swim, Kiku?”

“Jack once challenged me to a race and I regrettably told him ‘maybe another time’,” Kiku admitted sheepishly. “I do not think my old body could handle the marathon he’s envisioning.”

“Lili, pull the reins – _pull the reins!_ ” Matthew’s voice came urgently between mouthfuls of water. Lili’s laughter was uncontrolled and wonderfully melodious as she tugged on Gilbert’s ears to try and steer him away from the Canadian. They ultimately failed in matching their opponent’s player tower, breaking away from one another so that no one risked drowning.

Meanwhile, Basch stood frozen, looking utterly scandalised and clueless as to how to handle the situation. He could feel the drive to protect his sister rising; the pressure building to a painful point in his chest. The only thing that kept him rooted to that shore was the fact that Lili was laughing, smiling and simply having the time of her life. He couldn’t remember the last time she had been so absolutely carefree – at least in his presence. She had been happy, sure, but never this euphoric. His whole body flinched reflexively when Francis placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You can stop worrying, _mon ami,_ ” he assured. “She’ll be fine.”

And for once, despite all his apprehensiveness, Basch felt like he could almost agree. The more he watched the game and saw Lili giggle and enjoy herself, the more at ease he became. Just perhaps, this trip wouldn’t be so bad in the end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You...
> 
> I decided to complete this instead of an assessment that's due in 24-hours. I'm good at this. But I love that people are enjoying this goofy thing even though the fandom is relatively quiet these days. Bless you for your kudos and comments.  
> In any case, this is just a little extra sprinkling of shenaniganry before we get into the meat and bones of the story; think of it like a fine seasoning, perhaps? Or take it like a warning - the tags and ratings have an exponential chance of being updated from this point forward.  
> I've gone over this a few times to check for errors, but I'm not perfect - so if you do find something that's typo'd or misspelled please don't hesitate to include it in the comment for me to rectify.
> 
> Wishing you all a lovely week ahead, and I hope to see you again for the next chapter xx


	4. a wish uttered in the dark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, sorry for that, but we're back!  
> Again a note on some terms; in Australia we tend to call flashlights torches more often than not, so in case you start imagining primitive sticks with fire, that's not what I'm referring to at all.  
> Also, if you weren't aware, there is an official Tumblr page for this story and there's character artwork there as well:  
> https://hetahorror-official.tumblr.com/tagged/portraits  
> Thanks for your enduring patience; now, enjoy!

A shrill scream cut through the light conversation around the burning campfire. It was around four in the afternoon when everyone had finally abandoned the lake in favour of a late lunch. With energy levels spent and hunger gnawing at their bellies, tensions were remarkably high. The sudden disruption of their meal preparations had heads turning like they were a clan of meerkats. Gunshots boomed through the thicket like thunder and all eyes were staring towards the tents where Alfred was shrieking incomprehensibly and shooting at something beyond view. Between his flailing and the scattered spray of leaf litter from each shot, there wasn’t much of a chance to focus on what it was he was targeting.

A single and final shot rang out that wasn’t from Alfred’s gun. Black bits of _something_ exploded from the ground and scattered like rubbery shrapnel. Attention was now drawn to Basch who had reacted in a heartbeat, pulling his own gun quicker than anyone could blink. A terrible and heavy silence descended over them.

Everyone simultaneously released a breath they didn’t realise they had been holding.

“Good God, you nearly scared us half to death!” Arthur yelled as he strode up to the frazzled nation to clap him over the head.

“Dude, it was huge – and it was _on me!_ ” Alfred exclaimed defensively.

“What was?!” Francis wasn’t the only one who was disturbed and keen for an explanation.

“A spider!”

Interest in the affair diminished quicker than a doused flame – save for Jack whose eyebrows flew up almost as fast as he departed his fold-out chair. He knocked it over as he crossed the thicket to where Alfred was, leaving Gilbert and Antonio to fight for the vacant seat.

“You obliterated Nelly!” Jack wailed in utter despair. He picked up one of the black pieces that had spread across the ground; a spindly rubber leg. He looked so comically forlorn at the discovery Arthur actually chuckled despite himself.

“Who is Nelly?” Ludwig was the first to voice the question buzzing on the rest of the group’s mind.

“Oh Nelly, we pranked so many people together…” Jack continued, ignoring Ludwig whilst squatting over the death site of what had apparently been a gimmicky toy spider. “This wasn’t the end I wanted for you.”

“Dude, that was an insanely good shot,” Alfred commented to Basch after having recovered from the encounter. Basch’s expression was less than impressed as he focused on the pistol in his hand.

“You need to learn to make your shots count,” he said flatly. “Otherwise what good does it do to shoot blindly when you’re in danger?”

Alfred had nothing of value to reply with, but he wore an expression of profound wonder. Basch could almost hear the voice in the American’s head say: ‘oh that makes sense.’

“Ooh, the sausages are ready!” Feliciano’s excited voice brought them back to their original focus; food. It was nothing elaborate, but it was the closest to a banquet as one could get in the middle of the wilderness. Kiku and Yao had both set up small portable gas cookers on a set of rocks close to the campfire. The mouth-watering odour of the skewered sausages roasting over the campfire lingered in the air with the scent of freshly stir-fried vegetables that had been prepared previously.

As everyone closed in on the food, a quarrel inevitably broke out. It was the kind of chaotic squabble akin to a flock of seagulls warring over a potato chip. The gnarly branch that held the meaty morsels was soon caught by Ivan, who kept it above anyone else’s reach while the clamour continued around him. Silently, without a shift in his amused expression, he lowered the branch down to Lili who was standing quietly at the edge of the circle. She plucked a sausage from the selection and another for her brother, smiling gratefully to the tall Russian. More sausages were skewered and set to cook once the first round had been distributed, and as quickly as it had stirred up, the commotion declined.

They ate over steady conversations and reminisced their games at the lake. After the first round of roasted treats, Jack tossed some foil wrapped potatoes onto the fire and cracked open the case of beers he had lugged along.

The stars at last came out once the sun had given its farewells. The purple-pink expanse faded into its natural and abyssal black and the heavens did not show hesitation from their grand display. Uninhibited by the pervasive glow of a civilisation that never sleeps, the stars sparkled brightly and proudly above them. The conversations continued, though had grown softer as a few of the nations became entranced by the night’s sky. With their appetites sated and steady stream of alcohol loaded into their systems by the can-full, everyone was settled comfortably around the fire in amicable harmony.

“Alright folks, you know what time it is,” Alfred clapped his hands together. “It’s time to honour the age-old tradition of telling ghost stories around the fire!”

“Oh dear,” Francis groaned. He directed a sharp glare at Arthur’s obvious excitement for the activity. “You are _not_ going to tell that story from last time, Arthur, I absolutely forbid it.”

“What’s the matter? Did it actually give you a scare? Can’t handle a good spook?” Arthur wiggled his fingers in an attempt at a threatening gesture that was lost in his giggly demeanour. Arthur was certainly a lot more giddy than gloomy after the first few drinks, and Francis wasn’t sure if he liked that or not. Then again, pushing the Brit to his Depressive-Drunk stage was definitely going to be a mood-killer for everyone, so he begrudgingly went with it.

“Well, now that I know the ending it’s not going to be scary, but I’m sure there are people here who would not appreciate such ghastly tales,” Francis reasoned, glancing briefly over to Lili who appeared slightly bristled by the mention of ghost stories.

“That is sort of the point, though,” Kiku reasoned softly.

“Yeah, it’s part of the whole camping… whatchamacallit…” Jack was turning his hand in the air as he tried to come up with the word.

“Aesthetic?” Ludwig supplied, to which Feliciano confusedly misheard as ‘athletic’.

“Yeah, that one, ascetic,” Jack clicked his fingers. Ludwig briefly shut his eyes like he needed to reset his brain after the exchange. “Shall I go first?”

“I know you, Jack,” Arthur said while narrowing his gaze. “You’re _not_ doing a retelling of Dingo Creek or Lunch at Hangman’s Rock or whatever.”

“Hey, spoilers!”

“And you can’t just default to a story with convicts and cannibals!” Francis added.

The Australian smacked his knees with a huff. He leaned forward and grabbed a stick to jimmy out a potato from the fire.

“Honestly you guys, I came out here to have a good time, and truth be told, I’m feeling so attacked—”

“Oh! A shooting star!” Lili interrupted with a gasp. About half the group began to watch the sky – the other half remained engaged in berating the quality of their horror stories. In her excitement she began tapping Ivan on the arm. He seemed startled by the contact as he nearly spilt a good portion of his vodka over the ground. “Did you see it? Oh, it was so wonderful, it went right across there!” 

Ivan followed the line Lili traced in the sky, but he admitted to her he hadn’t seen it. 

“Aw, I missed it too,” Feliciano said ruefully. “Lovino, did you see?” His brother shrugged noncommittally.

“You had better make a wish, before someone else does,” Ivan instructed. Lili made a ludicrously exaggerated thinking face and Ivan couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. Even though Basch insisted she stay away from the drinks, she had been very bold to sneak one. Okay, she snuck three drinks, but that was a secret. Ivan promised not to tell a soul that she’d tried the vodka – he even crossed his heart like she asked. He was never going to forget her expression of barely contained disgust at the taste.

“Maybe there’ll be another shooting star,” Lili whispered hopefully. She was almost pouting as she searched the dark speckled sky.  

“You have more than one wish?” Ivan inquired curiously. 

“No, it’s so that you can see one too,” she said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Her bright eyes and girlish energy reminded him so much of his dear sisters. In a way, he wanted them to be here too. They had lost touch in recent years, though Ivan felt deep down that may have been his fault. It was never his intention to drive them away - or anyone for that matter. Things just sort of turned out like that and it was upsetting. He missed his family, but he had slowly come to accept that this was what happened over time, especially for people like them. He cherished what he could, and right now he cherished the attention and kindness that Lili was giving him, despite the preconceptions everyone held for him. 

Basch remained silent during their chat, his eyes hardened but revealing no emotion. Since the excursion to the lake he had spoken very few words to Lili. Even with Francis’s reassurance and the slight budding ease he felt at seeing her so happy, he couldn’t quite put his concern to rest. As much as his apprehension thrashed about inside of him, he didn’t want to spoil her fun. So, to the best of his ability, he restrained that beast and kept his distance. He would be there if she needed him, just like always. Wordlessly, Basch continued to sip from his drink.

When Matthew got around to checking his watch it was already ten thirty. The energy had died down somewhat among the group and the roaring fire was now diminishing down to a pleasant glow.

Lili and Basch had retired to their tents not more than half an hour earlier, and it seemed that the others weren’t far off. Feliciano and Lovino had fallen asleep leaning like dominoes against Antonio’s shoulder. The Spaniard was doing a remarkable job of keeping their balance, whilst also strumming idle chords on his guitar. Ludwig kept an arm ready, in case Feliciano swayed backwards off the log. He appeared to be contemplating putting the dozing Italian to bed. Jack was polishing off another jacket potato, engaged in some half philosophical conversation with Ivan and Yao between mouthfuls. Matthew himself was feeling rather drowsy. After plenty of drinks and hot food, staring into the orange warmth of the fire was the closest he felt he’d get to being hypnotised.

Suddenly Antonio tapped the front of his guitar – the round beads of his bracelet clacked in unison with the hollow wooden thump. The spell of the fire was broken. He stood up, careful not to topple the two men leaning against him and laid his instrument down on the grass before turning towards the south of the clearing.

"Nature calls," he announced. Gilbert, who had been poking the cinders with a gnarly stick, tossed the implement into the fire and sprung to his feet.

"Yo, wait up, I'm gonna get some more firewood."

“I’ll come too,” Matthew agreed. “I think I need a bit of a walk anyway.”

“Should we really stoke the fire if we’re going to sleep soon?” Ludwig inquired.

“I mean, if you kids need to stick to your bed-time that’s fine, but I kind of want to sit up longer,” stated Gilbert with a smirk. “C’mon Mattie, go grab the torches.”

Ludwig’s protests were ignored as the trio disappeared through the trees; the torchlight flickering and fading between the branches, until it was gone.

“He never listens,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Siblings, ey,” Jack remarked with an upward tip of his chin in acknowledgement. “Talkin’ to the other half of my ‘family’ is like talkin’ to a brick wall.”

“Hey, I listen to you,” Alfred rebuked sounding offended. After a sip he added, “Sometimes.”

“More like never, arsehole.” Jack took a final swig from his umpteenth can of beer before crushing the aluminium effortlessly. “Actually, all you folks in the northern hemisphere club shade me – and ‘Zeals. We gotta make our own amusement like, ninety-nine percent of the fucken time.”

“You’re just so far away man.” Alfred excused.

“Nah, even my fella Yao, you ghost me too and I’m like ya bloody neighbour!”

“No Jack, I just prefer more sophisticated company,” he explained with a teasing smirk. Jack flipped the bird.

They descended into a small silence. The branches on the fire crackled and popped and cinders danced into the air.

“I hope they don’t get lost,” Kiku admitted, glancing over his shoulder.

“Who wants to bet Antonio gets a leech on his butt?” Francis wagered with a giggle.

“Of course, you would be the one thinking about _butts_ ,” Arthur snorted. He swayed a little too much as he pointed a finger at the Frenchman. Apparently, he’d passed the very-drunk threshold and was now rambling incoherently – ‘bloody woods’ this and ‘god forsaken’ that were among some of the phrases that Francis could decipher among it all.

“I think it’s time you went and got your beauty sleep, old friend,” Francis insisted, patting Arthur on the shoulder gently.

“Ja, I think these two should as well,” Ludwig added, nodding his head towards the two Italians who were now reclined on the log-seat.

“Always relegated to parenting duties, aren’t we?” Kiku chuckled.

Jack grabbed one of the torches resting beside his feet and helped guide Francis and Ludwig to their tents. Feliciano and Lovino were no trouble to put to bed; neither of the two stirring from their slumber as they were carried to their sleeping bags. It was a struggle to get Arthur across the campsite, however, as he began swearing up a storm insisting he could walk himself. Alfred could barely contain his laughter as he watched the drunken Brit nearly stagger and collapse on one of the adjacent tents. Once he was safely tucked away in the comfort of his sleeping bag, however, he was dead to the world and snoring almost immediately.

“Yo, hold the light steady Mattie, you’re going to make me nauseous doing that shit.”

Gilbert was trying to pluck the dried branches from the ground but was having difficulty discerning the best pieces when his light source kept sliding away. The torchlight was barely stable as Matthew was left in charge of illuminating their firewood foraging expedition. After walking some distance from base camp, Antonio had splintered off from them to do his business, taking with him the second torch that Matthew had brought. The duo had then continued to walk a little further, coming to a stop at another clearing in the woods where several trees had fallen over. 

“I am though.”

“Liar, you drunk or something?”

“Mmm, totally aren’t.” The slur in his voice told Gilbert otherwise and he smirked.

“Such a lightweight – not sure if I’m glad or disappointed to see that hasn’t changed.”

When Gilbert stood up with his arms half full of dried firewood, he looked back over to where Matthew was. He had to squint against the light shining in his face, but he could just make out the deep-in-thought expression that Matthew was wearing.

“When was the last time we actually hung out, Gil?” It was a rather sad sounding question – like he couldn’t quite remember the answer. “Like, six or seven months ago?”

“Umm, more like a year ago? Maybe two? Kinda hard to keep track – time flies, yadda-yadda…” 

“You’re joking.” He looked like he had been struck. The blond shook his head in dismay. He quickly regretted that action as it made his head spin and he nearly lost his footing. “That’s just criminal.”

“It happens,” Gilbert replied nonchalantly. Matthew could tell that he genuinely didn’t mind, but it didn’t sit right with him at all.

“I’m sorry,” Matthew apologised without being able to stop himself. He often resented how easily words let themselves run loose from his lips after a few drinks. But just for tonight, he was okay with that.  

Alfred had been right - everyone had been too distant for way too long and he missed this.

He missed how he and Gilbert used to spend time together. Back when everyone ignored or forgot about Matthew during the world conferences, Gilbert was one person who hadn’t for one reason or another. He never really questioned it - he had never been sure, but he felt it had something to do with Gilbert’s status as an ex-nation. Whatever the motive, it was irrelevant now. Matthew had valued his friendship, which was why he couldn’t help but lament they had somehow gotten out of touch. They had gone from constant communication, weeklong stay-overs, partying and pub-crawling like teenaged hooligans to barely seeing each other outside of meetings for more than a catch-up. He hated it, now that he noticed it; he hated how he had let himself get so slack with maintaining friendships – especially theirs.

But even though Matthew was internally beating himself up over his inability to stay connected to people, Gilbert didn’t let that ellipsis in their relationship affect him. For sure, Gilbert had a big voice and an even bigger personality that was near inescapable when he was in the presence of others, but truthfully, he had very few bonds that were meaningful. Outside of forcing himself into other circles to cause mischief or embarking on whimsical trips with Antonio and Francis – who were his friends absolutely - Gilbert never really felt like he clicked in anywhere else. But tonight, being there in the forests of Matthew’s homeland, sitting with the other nations who had put their nationhood behind them for the weekend, he felt like a part of something again, and it felt good. Almost as good as it felt to pick up where he and Matthew left off when their (mainly Matthew’s) responsibilities had gotten in the way.

“Hey, it’s cool,” Gilbert assured. “This has been a blast.”

“Hasn’t it just?” Matthew gave a half smile, half grimace. “I am still cheesed at Alfred for it, though… He didn’t even invite me at first! Can you believe that?” He began to wonder if he had drunk more than he initially thought because he was having a hard time staying upright. It was as if he were in an inflatable jumping castle, wobbling about to the whimsy of the puffed plastic. He must’ve almost keeled over, because before he registered it, Gilbert had dropped the stack of wood and was at his side steadying him with both arms.

“You better sit before you knock yourself out, loser,” he cackled while assertively guiding Matthew to one of the fallen trees. He planted himself down beside the blond, realising now he too was also a bit drunk and wobbly.

“It’s been nice” Matthew hiccuped. “I don’t think we’ve ever been like this - just hanging out, having fun; not having shitty fights over... world stuff...” Gilbert nodded sagely in agreement.

The stars were glittering brilliantly above them. Matthew turned the torch off, letting the night surround them as they watched the endless space beyond them. A thin line of light arced through sky, visible only for mere seconds before it was gone. It would have taken only a blink to have missed it – but Matthew caught sight of it despite his state of mind. He wondered briefly if Lili saw that one too, before thinking, ‘I wish we could stay like this forever.’

It was horribly quiet when Gilbert slowly, almost mechanically, looked over. He was smiling but his brows were furrowed and slightly quizzical.

“Um.” Matthew’s brain immediately checked out after realising several seconds too late that he had said that out loud. Oh God damn, he had said that wish _out loud_ and it was such a vague and open statement it was guaranteed to have been misinterpreted.

Matthew tried to space himself from Gilbert who was laughing despite everything, stammering as he tried to backpedal and apologise. He pushed himself a bit too hard, however, and the blond reeled awkwardly sideways off the fallen tree and into the bush behind it.

“Holy shit, Mattie!” Gilbert was both surprised and cackling with wild delight. “You’re completely wasted.”

The Canadian’s response was lost in a mouthful of leaves being sputtered out. After having his fill of howling at Matthew’s lame attempts to escape his leafy captor, Gilbert stood and offered both hands to pull him out of the bush’s embrace. He helped dust the clingy plant matter from his clothes and the two laughed together, their previous conversation now forgotten; put on hold for a more sober occasion.

“We should probably head back,” Matthew spoke at last, retrieving the torch that had fallen on the ground and switching it back on. “Gilbert?” He had been rather still.

“Hey, it’s… really quiet here, don’t you think?” Gilbert observed.

“It is quiet,” Matthew echoed, as his expression became pensive.

How hadn’t he noticed it earlier?

He felt the hairs stand on the back of his neck as the stillness of the woods drew out unceasingly. He was waiting for something – anything – like an owl, or a cricket. His eyes drifted to the log they had been previously sitting on; the bark was dry and stiff and bore four distinct deep lines along its length, wrapping around like gruesome scars. Did a bear make that?

“Ookay, I’m officially spooked,” Gilbert declared, having also noticed the markings. He smiled despite his unnerved state and gathered up the branches he had dropped. “I vote we go back.”

“Agreed.”

The campfire had dimmed with most of its fuel expended. The snapping and popping of burning wood had given way to fainter, ambient crackles and the intensity of the heat had diminished. Alfred turned the crumbling charcoals with a remaining stick. By this stage only he, Francis, Ludwig, Jack and Kiku remained; Ivan and Yao had both grown weary and retreated for the night.

“They’ve been gone a while.” Kiku had been checking the tree-line constantly.

“I’m now one-hundred percent sure Antonio got bitten by a leech,” Francis sang with a grin.

“Who do you think is trying to pry it off him?” Jack quirked his brow. “Matt or Gil?”

Before anyone could give their answer, Gilbert emerged from the forest haloed by the light of Matthew’s torch and his arms full of wood. He dumped the bundle behind one of the seating logs and gave a triumphant flex.

“Oh yeah, who’s awesome?” The last word was followed by a sharp ‘ow’ as Matthew dinked him in the back of the head with the butt of the torch. “Hey, uh, did Antonio get back yet?”

“Wasn’t he with you two?” Ludwig frowned, and Matthew felt a very cold sensation creep into his gut.

“Yeah, but he had to take a piss, so we split.” Gilbert swapped glances with the Canadian who was now obviously troubled. “We legit walked in a straight line, so he couldn’t have gotten lost.”

“This is Antonio we’re talking about,” Francis reminded. “He’s probably gotten turned around in the dark and ended up at the lake or something.”

Matthew’s distress intensified with the general blasé attitude his peers were showing. It was very likely Antonio was just wandering around nearby, and if he had made it to the lake, he would’ve been able to find his way back eventually. But there was a weight in Matthew’s gut that wouldn’t shift – a dense stone of apprehension that warned him he was forgetting something, rolling around uncomfortably in a desperate attempt to be recalled.

“Come on, let’s go look for him.” Ludwig rose to his feet with an exasperated grumble. He retrieved a torch of his own and began to head for the south of the campsite. Gilbert whined but followed along anyway. Francis sprung up with an unexpected amount of energy and joined alongside.

“You guys right to stay here?” Matthew inquired as he looked between the remaining three by the fire.

“Sure thing, bro, we’ll keep the fire big and bright, so you can see it better on your way back.” Jack also gave the thumbs up and Kiku bobbed his head.

He gave a thankful smile and trailed after the others.

They retraced their steps with ease. The trees were spaced well enough that they didn’t have to bash through many branches or bushes once they left the campsite. True to their word and having stuck to a straight route, they soon reached the cluster of boulders where they had split ways with Antonio. Everyone each passed their lights over the surrounding rocks, some of which rose higher than their heads. They called out into the dark, their voices stretching through the gaps of the trees and into the night’s void. The trees whispered, but there was no return call. They called again as they examined the rocky copse further, flashing their torches in every dark gap and hollow. The leaves sighed and swayed but kept their secrets.

“He’s not here,” Matthew stated almost too low to be heard.

“How bothersome,” Ludwig grumbled.

Matthew’s mouth felt dry. He shone the light over their surrounds once more, like it was an urgent need. The air felt cooler. He pulled the strings of his hoodie and brought the fabric tighter around his neck to chase off the growing chill.

“How can he not hear us, oh my goodness,” Francis huffed, now frustrated. He leaned back against one of the tall boulders and crossed his arms. “He has got to be messing with us.”

“Tonio you jerk, quit hiding this isn’t funny anymore!” Gilbert shouted.

“Guys.”

Everyone’s heads whirled across to where Matthew was standing just outside the ring of stones. His eyes were focused on something beyond their view, obscured by the grey rise of a rock and the veil of a shrub’s leaves. They converged on that corner, eyes following the line of Matthew’s flashlight. A tiny object glimmered amidst the leaf litter at the base of a towering ash tree. Ludwig moved forward and reached for the object. When he turned back to face the others, he opened his palm to share the discovery.

“It’s Antonio’s bracelet,” he uttered in a voice that was weaker than he would’ve liked. The fine woven string had snapped, and the shiny red and yellow beads were grazed like they had been dragged against an abrasive surface.

“Look over here,” Gilbert interrupted. Everyone turned to where he had flicked his light at the trunk of the tree where it caught the gloss of tiny scattered red dots. They were too dark to be sap leaks.

“H-he probably just slipped,” Francis laughed awkwardly, but was evidently unconvinced by his own words. “We’ve had a bit to drink, after all…”

“That’s even worse,” Matthew stressed. “If he’s drunk enough to fall over like that, what if he falls into the lake?” His voice rose, and his panic was barely contained. Gilbert squeezed his shoulder firmly.

“Mattie, breathe. We’ll find him,” he reassured. “And when we do, we’ll drag his stupid drunk ass back to camp and you can give him a righteous punch.”

Matthew took in a deep breath and released it slowly, but it did near nothing to calm him. He tried put on a front of confidence, though, for everyone else’s sake.

“Someone should let the others know,” Ludwig said firmly.

“I’ll go,” Matthew volunteered and began his way back through the stony grove.

“Francis, you are going back as well?” Gilbert inquired, aware of his friend’s usual skittishness, but the Frenchman shook his head. 

“ _Non_ , I want to be there, so I can personally yell at that bastard for his recklessness.”

The three men gazed over at Matthew who insisted with a smile that he would be fine to make it back on his own. With a unified nod of acknowledgement, they separated.

Ludwig clenched the beads in his hand and refocused himself. He exchanged looks with Gilbert and Francis, a hardened resolve now shared between them.

“Come on, he can’t have gone too far.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you...
> 
> Once again I've forgone doing an assignment for this story; but I'm kind of disillusioned with that class anyway so it's not a loss, really.  
> I did say that ships are there if you squint, but the ships aren't really the main focus; you can really glaze over them and still get the juicy part of the main course with little loss of flavour. Furthermore, I've run a check on my text but if I've missed a cheeky typo shoot me a message and I'll purge it; I check back every few days to double-triple-check, but I still miss these things.  
> See you all in the next instalment, and as always let me know your thoughts! I love hearing what you have to say and what you're anticipating.


	5. a raw kind of instinct

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: This is where things get very serious, very fast. Tags have been updated to reflect the tonal shift. I don't hold back. Please take care of yourself if you're unsettled by visceral imagery. No illustrations are in this chapter.

Ludwig, Francis and Gilbert trudged through the forest at a steady pace. Only the sound of crunching leaves punctuated the silence. There was not a single chirrup of an insect nor the hoot of an owl, even the wind had all but stilled. It was an eerie atmosphere that they all noticed but refused to openly acknowledge. They decided to listen to Gilbert after he suggested Antonio may have tried to follow Matthew and himself before they had both returned to camp. And since to their east the terrain sloped down dramatically, and the brush grew thick enough to be near impassable, they opted to continue on southward. They persisted in calling out for Antonio, if only to break the quiet spell that surrounded them.

It wasn’t long before they reached the second clearing of dead felled trees. Now with more lights available, he could see that it was almost thrice the size of their campsite. The clouds were starting to roll in, as large patches of the starry sky were blotted out from their view. Gilbert’s eyes then drew down to the trunk that he and Matthew had sat on mere minutes ago. A slight shiver ran down his neck when he saw those deep, curling indentations in the bark.

“ _Mon Dieu,_ this certainly is odious…” Francis muttered. “What on Earth could’ve happened here?”

“I don’t know,” Ludwig replied, noticeably shaken. He was examining another downed tree and Gilbert saw that similar marks were present there as well. “A bear, perhaps?”

Francis cast him a sceptical stare.

“A _really_ big bear?” Gilbert grinned sheepishly to cover his own apprehension. As he moved past the stacks of dried and rotting wood, he noted just about every trunk had been scarred.

God, he hoped it was just a bear, but even then, that didn’t bode well if Antonio had been unfortunate enough to stumble into its path.

“I think by this point Antonio would’ve realised he went the wrong way,” Francis stated.

“We’ll go back, but take a wider path from the lake,” Ludwig decided, at last tearing his eyes from the markings. They exited the clearing just slightly further west from their entry, sticking close to one another and fixating their torches on their path ahead.

“Imagine what Lovino would say if he was still awake,” Gilbert said lightly with a nudge to Francis, trying to create some noise that wasn’t just from the act of bush-walking. “Man, he’d be _pissed_.” 

“How many times do you think he could fit the word ‘bastard’ into one sentence?” He and Gilbert were about to chuckle when Ludwig came to an abrupt stop. Their faces fell just as fast and Ludwig tilted his head as if he were straining to listen for something.

“Do you hear that?” he asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

Francis and Gilbert paused and waited – holding their breaths in a subconscious reaction. At first it was just the droning ring of empty, silent air. Sufficiently confused, Francis opened his mouth to speak when they heard it.

It was faint, distant and only audible for a second or two; a rusted and squeaky groan – the cry of unoiled hinges.

There was a shared look of determination before the three of them set off, drawn towards the unexpected audial beacon in the void of the forest. They moved cautiously at first, waiting until they heard it again to confirm their route. Satisfied that the metallic squeal was getting closer, they hastened their pace, moving faster until they were jogging – an unknown urgency taking hold of them all.

They weaved their way past some kind of dark wooden structure that they soon realised to be a dilapidated fence, with more gaps and holes than there were upright planks to constitute its purpose. And that’s when they found the source of the creaking.

Attached to a rickety frame on the front of an old log cabin was a door. It swung ajar in slow, tired motions, caught in a breeze that was otherwise imperceptible. The building’s condition was much like the fence at its perimeter, unashamed of its neglect and disrepair. A tall pine at the edge of the fence-line had snapped at its trunk and had collapsed onto the left side of the cabin, its heavy descent having taken much of the structure’s roofing with it. It seemed to have been an event of the distant past, however, as the limbs of the pine were devoid of its natural spindly coverings, replaced instead with other forms of creeping vegetation that also latched onto and invaded the cabin’s skeleton. Two square windows sat either side of the front door; the panes that had not been cracked or shattered were an opaque and musty grey. There was what was remained of a porch that extended from the cabin’s front; its railings were either crooked or missing panels, and the support columns that straddled the steps leading to the threshold appeared ready to submit to gravity’s whim.

With the moon and stars now almost completely hidden by the clouds, the three minimal circles of light their torches provided only worked to emphasise the grim demeanour of the cabin.

Francis took a step backwards, and another, until his backside bumped against the weakened frame of the fence. “I am not going in there, no way.” 

“But what if Antonio went in?” Gilbert shared his friend’s unease, but he wasn’t about to just leave.

“Give the man some credit,” he snapped back purely out of anxiety. “I don’t think he would be stupid – or drunk enough to walk into some creepy old hut in the middle of the forest!”

Gilbert and Ludwig both gave Francis a hollow stare. If he hadn’t known the two were brothers, their current mirrored expression of ‘this is Antonio we’re talking about,’ was a dead giveaway that they were absolutely related.

“You can stay out here then.” Without missing a beat Ludwig took the lead and headed straight for the cabin’s porch. Gilbert eyed Francis for a moment, shrugged, then tailed along behind his brother.

As the comfort of their torchlight moved away and the shadows of the night crept in, Francis began to fidget, nervously looking between the forest and the ominous structure ahead. Fraught with indecision, it only took the brush of a leaf against his neck to startle him into motion and with an undignified yelp he ran to join his companions.     

“Watch your step.” Francis heeded Ludwig’s warning as he stepped over the broken boarding at the top of the porch stairs. The other panels groaned agedly under their shoes; Gilbert instinctively took a hold of the flimsy railing in fear of the surface giving way underneath.

Ludwig pressed his palm to the face of the door and pushed it open the whole way. The hinges squealed with the motion. Torchlight flooded the interior, revealing a shroud of dust motes floating in the stale air. There were cobwebs of varying sizes hanging over and between every visible surface, some looking thicker than even the disintegrating curtains that clung by their last threads over the windows.

With a cautious step forward, Ludwig deduced that the floorboards were intact and relatively safe for them to walk over.

“Antonio?” Francis called out from behind Gilbert, but again received no reply. They steadily shuffled indoors, pressing the door as wide as it would go to allow airflow.

The main room was a rectangular space with an old-fashioned stove and metallic sink tucked into a nook in the back-right corner. Beside the nook, directly opposite to the front door, was a two-seater sofa with upholstering that was beyond all hope of repair. The green chequered fabric had faded to a mouldy grey and was riddled with tears and holes. The cushions were flat and sunken, like year-long neglected balloons. The rustic coffee table that accompanied the sofa had been split clean in two pieces and both ends now leaned inwards towards one another. An open doorway lay at the left end of the room, leading into what appeared to be a corridor.

“Maybe he isn’t here after all.” Francis couldn’t will himself to leave the doorway, feeling altogether unwell being in the desolate space. He eyed Gilbert in dismay as, for whatever reason, he went to sit on the horrendously derelict couch. Ludwig had walked off to their immediate right, approaching a tiny, square wooden table that was bereft of the company of chairs. There were thick bundles of barbed wire atop the rough wooden surface, all coated in a thick layer of dust. Before he could test the thickness of the filth or even touch the wire, he noticed that someone already had; the crooked and shaky path in the ashy grime indicative of a recent visitor. He strode over to the kitchen space, ducking under a thick spiderweb that dangled from the ceiling. The stove was an antiquated wood-fired device made from cast iron; its dark surface blackened further with thick chunks of cooking bi-product that had crusted over. The sink on the other hand, also an entirely metallic apparatus, was relatively clean – the basin of which was filled with thin spools of yellowing fabric.

“Are you comfortable there?” Francis sounded appalled. Ludwig gazed over to see his older brother bouncing his rear on the depressed cushions looking rather pleased with himself.

“It’s a bit lumpy, but it still beats sitting on a… log,” he trailed off as he noticed Francis become distracted. His blue eyes were focused with a firm but reluctant recognition at something in the corner. As they all directed their torches to the corridor opening, the trail of smattered dark stains they saw sent a worrying chill down their spines.

“Do you think…?” Francis couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Gilbert shot up from the couch, joined closely by Ludwig, and they made for the corridor – desperate to resolve the trepidation that was beginning to suffocate them.

The trail widened down the corridor, brighter, redder – there were less splatters and more dragged smudges as they went. They ducked their heads under the arm of the dead pine that intruded the hallway and traced the grim lines down a right turn. The smeared strokes all lead to a closed door that sealed off the end of the narrow hall.

Gilbert heard Francis whisper, “It’s a wounded animal,” and he desperately hoped that was the case. He couldn’t even hear the floorboards creak as he walked to the door. His heart thumped loud in his ears and drowned out all but a single prayer in his mind. The chipped, rickety doorknob was cold in his sweaty hand. He swallowed the heavy lump that had formed in his throat and wrenched the door open like one would rip off a band-aid.

None of them heard the door as it slammed hollowly against the wall.

The tiny bathroom’s wooden panels were mouldy and decaying; a pair of roaches scuttled into their nooks frightened by the intrusive lights. A moist, mildewy odour wafted out from the cramped space and Francis audibly gagged. It was a sort of sickening perfume of stagnated sewerage and rot. The floor was coated in a slurry of mud, water and blood. The muck was concentrated around an old clawfoot bath in the corner where an arm hung limply over its chipped enamel lip.

There was a long and disbelieving pause – a deep shock that rooted all three of them to the doorway. Francis’s voice was lost – trapped in his throat; his body unwilling to move. Even when Gilbert and Ludwig had returned to their senses and had rushed over to the tub where Antonio lay unmoving, he could only stare glazed over in mortification. The brothers were shouting in panicked German to one another, but it was obscured by the white-noise in Francis’s head.

Antonio’s body lay haphazardly in the partially filled tub, his clothes sodden and tattered. His head hung heavy – chin to his chest – and his eyes were shut. They would’ve easily thought he had just passed out if it hadn’t been for the river of blood that ran from his hairline and down the right side of his face. Gilbert brushed his friend’s hair back to find a nasty wound that was indicative of a hard, blunt strike. What was more worrying though, were the vicious, deep and deliberate gashes that ran from both his palms to the juncture of his elbows.

Gilbert cursed his shaking hands, pressing his fingers to the side of Antonio’s throat and leaning close to search for any vital signs. He felt his own heart stammer with fragile relief.

“H-he’s still alive,” he confirmed, immediately moving to pull the man out of the tub with Ludwig’s assistance. “ _What in fuck’s name happened?_ ”

“Francis!” Ludwig’s voice was loud, clear and focused, and it snapped him from his trace. “Kitchen sink, bandages.”

It was a short statement, not even an order, but he understood. His heart was working wildly in his chest as he rushed through the corridor, weaving back under the leaning pine and into the front room. He located the bandages and although they were less than sanitary, they were better than nothing. When he returned to the bathroom, Ludwig had torn the sleeves from his own white undershirt and was using them on Antonio’s wounds. The younger German caught the spools of tattered fabric Francis chucked at him and used them to tightly secure the first layer of fabric down.

“We have to get help. Do you have your phone?” Ludwig asked.

“ _N-non_ , I left it—”

“Take mine.” Gilbert stopped winding the bandage he had been working on to fish out his mobile. He lobbed it across the bathroom to Francis, who was surprised, yet relieved to not have dropped it. Having only one free hand to catch it with that was already shaking rather violently, it was a feat in of itself. “Reception’s fucked out here, but you might get signal on the way back.”

“Take care of him you two…” Francis urged. He spared one last look at Antonio’s unnaturally ashen face before rushing out into the night.  

Out in the open, the forest was notably colder than earlier. Perhaps it had been the stuffiness of the stale cabin interior, or the overwhelming shock of finding Antonio in that horrific state, but whatever it was, the crisp air worked to focus Francis on his task. He took a second to re-orientate himself – recollecting where they entered and where to leave to reach the campsite.

Confirming his bearings, he launched from the veranda, his feet carrying him swiftly out of the clearing and into the cover of the trees. He vaulted over the rickety fence; boots smashing the twigs and leaves underfoot in their urgency to propel him forward. The torchlight bobbed about erratically with his movements, revealing the path ahead in punctuated streams of light. He grunted in frustration when he noticed Gilbert’s phone was still out of signal. With every step he took, he feared the growing possibility of being unable to contact the outside world. When he recalled the image of Antonio’s injured form, he stumbled. The leafy ground was soft enough to break his fall painlessly, but it was an irritating and unneeded setback.

Francis’s heart was beating uncomfortably hard against his ribs, from both the sheer terror and exertion. He kept moving. He couldn’t remember the last time he had run like this.

His mind kept drifting back to the cabin. There was no way Antonio could’ve caused those injuries to himself – there was no logical explanation for it. It had to have been someone, or _something_ else – but even then, who and _how?_ And why was it so terrifying? He had never had this kind of reaction before, even during the most violent periods of his lifetime – and there were many of those. He knew that because of what they fundamentally were, they couldn’t exactly die like other human beings – it was just impossible…

…and yet some innate and primal instinct screamed inside of him that this was different.

Clicking and rattling resonated beneath him as his feet kicked up debris from the forest floor. He grimaced at what he saw in that brief second he had flashed his torch down. Tiny frail animal bones, clacking and scattering in his wake. He felt sick, remembering when Arthur had said, “Doesn’t it seem quiet to you?”

A distinctive crack split and echoed through the forest. Then another, and another. It continued, frantic sharp pops that ricocheted through the bristly leaves and off the surrounding hills. Francis was sure his heart would stop. Only Basch and Alfred had guns. He kept running. Something was terribly wrong, and Francis couldn’t comprehend any of his racing thoughts, other than that he had to get back and get Antonio help.

“Lud?” Gilbert saw his brother seize up without warning. The blond raised his head, his eyes staring off to the side, unfocused.

They had managed to bring Antonio out of the fetid bathroom and into the living space. They had lain him on the sofa, head rested on Gilbert’s knees, arms tightly bandaged and raised, but they were still weeping through the layers of fabric.  

“Gunshots,” he answered, but it was more mouthed than spoken. This time Gilbert heard them; the faint but definite roar of a pair of firearms ripping the stillness of the night. He gazed back at his brother with a haunted expression. “Basch and Alfred.”

“What the hell would they be shootin—”

“Francis,” Ludwig exclaimed before Gilbert could finish.

“He probably scared the shit out of Alfred,” he tried to suggest, but Ludwig remained adamant in his own assumptions. The shots would’ve stopped by now if it had just been a scare, but they were still resonating through the woods. “Besides, he can’t possibly have gotten back just y- Ludwig? What are you-”

“Something’s not right, I’m going back.”

“What?!” Gilbert was firing up in protest, eyes hot with anger, but he was unable to leave his position. Ludwig was already halfway out the door when Gilbert yelled, “I can’t look after ‘Tonio alone!”

Then he was gone.

Powerless, Gilbert ground his teeth, biting back on a string of enraged curses. He couldn’t stop trembling. He was afraid, and angry because he was afraid. All his turmoil swam in uneasy circles in his mind as he stared down at Antonio, awfully pale compared to his naturally warm complexion, and just so disturbingly still.

“Don’t you dare fucking die on me, Antonio, you bastard,” he found himself saying and he almost wanted to laugh at how Lovino would say those exact words.

The gunshots that had started to draw nearer ended abruptly and Francis nearly wished they hadn’t. Silence descended around him once more and the wrongness of the whole situation only intensified.

But he was close now – he could see the campfire flicker behind the foliage ahead. He staggered into the thicket, breathless and wobbly from exhaustion.

In that moment, Francis forgot how to speak. No one was there.

Charcoals from the fire were scattered, like they had been run through carelessly. The eskies were tipped to their sides, cans of beer and pools of ice-cube melt spread in a messy halo. The tents were in a mixed state of torn, deflated or upturned.

Fear gripped Francis and he was very sure he was about to hyperventilate. This was a joke – a wild and heinous joke. He felt livid, and for the lack of a better idea, he yelled into the darkness that bordered the thicket.

“Arthur!” his words carried through the air, the trees, “Alfred! Feliciano! Anyone; for God’s sake, this is not the time to be pulling pranks!”

If it was a joke, Francis swore he would wring everyone by the neck. He circled the campsite, examining the wreckage in anxious curiosity. He checked Gilbert’s phone and there was still no signal. He wanted to throw the useless thing at ground in his frustration.

Leaves stirred, and he whipped his head around.

Finally, had someone come to their senses? He shone his torchlight towards the sound, the rustling coming from past the tree-line where it was out of sight. The torch couldn’t penetrate the tall barrier of bushes.

There was movement - some twigs snapped.

He didn’t know who it could’ve been, but he tried the first name he could think of, “Matthew?”

The rustling stopped.

Francis’s feeling of relief hitched. Rapid footfalls slapped down hard and out of sync, emanating from beyond his view, drawing nearer, faster. He rushed to move away, but it was an uncoordinated and startled action and his foot caught on a curled piece of a tent fabric and he fell backwards. He flicked his flashlight upwards with barely a second to see what was coming.

Ludwig wasn’t thinking as he bashed through the low hanging branches. He ignored the sting of the spiky leaves against his face, ignored the various nicks and cuts he gained on his hands along the way. His steps were far from gentle; his foot crushing a fallen tree limb like it was nothing. He didn’t have time to think about the piles of animal bones when he trampled his way through them – he just kept going. His chest was hurting with a fierce survivalist panic and his skin crawled for a reason he could not at all understand.

Then a visceral noise tore through it all; a terrible, numbing shriek that turned hoarse, resounding from one dreaded and obvious location.

He was screaming Francis’s name long before he even saw the dying cinders of the scattered campfire. It was a stupid thing to do – but he couldn’t stop, and the cries didn’t either. It grew louder, and louder until it stuttered – strangled, gurgled.

Ludwig thrust himself into the thicket, blindly determined out of raw instinct to fight off a threat but was wholly unprepared for what he encountered. All the wind and bravado were knocked from him in a single visual punch. He was paralysed, unable to summon a word even though his mouth was ajar and ready to shout. But he could only stare, transfixed in horror at the scene his torch had revealed.

Francis lay on the red soaked soil, head tilted painfully backward, staring right at Ludwig. His blue eyes were dulling and showing only partial, rapidly fading consciousness. So much of what should’ve been inside of him was lying either on or around his twitching, eviscerated body that it was likely that all his senses had already shut down. He shuddered – nerves firing reflexively – as more was pulled from the waning warmth of his chest and into the waiting, salivating mouth of a hunched figure that was squatted between his two separated halves.

Ludwig saw Francis’s lips move – or perhaps he imagined it? It was soundless, but the message was clear, “Run.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You...  
> This is a scene that has been in my mind for close to ten years now; it was the first thing my friend and I had decided upon for this story when it was first conceptualised. And now it's finally here, fast-tracked by my inspiration and excitement, in all its juicy gorey glory for you. I'm sorry; but also not sorry - more thankful.  
> Also, it's worth mentioning that if I've ever written a character's dialogue in all italics, it's my way of denoting they're talking in their native tongue. I don't want to embarrass myself with poor translations. There are more common foreign words that I've left as is, because the Hetalia fandom largely knows these by instinct.  
> See you in the next update, dear campers. Love to hear your thoughts; they're tasty morsels for my motivation.  
> Until then, have a grand week.
> 
> Edit: If you do want to share things with me related to the story on Tumblr, shoot the official blog a message, or you can tag it under HetaHorror and I'll be sure to find it!


	6. a web of fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: As before, this zone of the story is very dark and visceral and warnings do apply. No Illustrations are in this chapter.

__

_Shouting filled the tiny lamp-lit kitchen and Matthew could only listen in guilt-ridden silence as he stood in the doorway of the hall, cast in shadow. He had never seen either of his guardians fighting like this – and they fought a lot._

_Francis was slipping in and out of his native tongue mid-sentence, but with the gesticulations and scalding glares, he was clearly blaming Arthur for everything. ‘Influence’ and ‘negligence’ were thrown between them among other accusations, and Matthew really just wanted to disappear – walk out the door into the cold and just wrap himself up in the dark._

_“You need to set things straight, Arthur,” Francis hissed, jabbing a firm finger to the man’s chest. “I have no idea how any of this could have happened, but Matthew’s obviously inherited some of your_ abnormalities _, and since you’re the expert in the unnatural, it’s your duty to fix it; before something worse happens to these boys.”_

_There was a lull in the feud and the stuttering lamplight made the shadows dance on the walls. Matthew felt like he had become part of the furniture._

_“He won’t speak to me,” Arthur muttered weakly and Francis sighed. “I’ve tried.”_

_Another lull, then, “I don’t know what to do.”_

_Francis placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder as the other hung his head, unable to hold eye contact. Matthew withdrew from the light of the doorway but did not retreat to his room. Alfred was in there, and he wasn’t ready to see him. The sight of his brother swathed head to toe in cloth bandages with only enough space between the weaves to breathe, eat and… well, that was enough to haunt him for rest of his ‘childhood’._

_So, Matthew sat in the gloom of the hall, his back against the panelled walls. The thin slither of moonlight that peeked through the gap in the curtain drew a line through the corridor. A little bump disturbed the faint shaft of light, and Matthew automatically looked up at the face that keenly peered back from outside._

_It was all his fault._

 

Ludwig stumbled as he ran. He didn’t stop to look back or to even think – everything was a mess of scrambled white static in his mind.

Fight, flight or freeze; he had rushed into that thicket intending to do the first – but the moment he saw Francis lying in the clutches of those long, terrible arms with his flesh and innards caught between rows of flat yellowed teeth – his instinct defaulted to freeze. The _thing_ had noticed him but remained squatted between the two halves, still chewing fervently. It stared straight at Ludwig, dead-fish-eyed, glassy and unblinking. He could still hear the grisly wet chomping, _the crunching_. Its bony, elongated fingers dug out every last bit of weeping red meat from Francis’s cooling chest cavity and into its drooling mouth with such a nonchalance, it was as though it was merely emptying the contents of a split passion fruit. It was a short second after that thought that Ludwig’s brain properly rebooted, and he realised he had to get away.

There was no sound of the creature moving from its place, however, as he left the ruins of the camp behind. Nevertheless, he ran hard. He was starting to feel faint from the fresh visceral memories, each of them clambering atop one another to reach the forefront of his scattered thoughts, but he forced them down and kept moving.

A dim voice in his mind reasoned that returning to the cabin was a bad idea – what if it followed him? But where else was there to go? He half considered turning around to head in the vague direction of where Alfred had left the bus, but he soon saw the distant light beyond the trees and it was too late to change his course.

Ludwig tried to vault himself over the crumbling fence, but instead got caught and fell, rolling across the cold grass in a heap. He felt awfully hazy – the adrenaline still pumped through his veins but was slowly being overwhelmed. He crawled to his feet, glad that no one was there to see him in such a pathetic state and shambled to the door of the cabin that was now shut. He didn’t open the door, so much as fell onto the rickety thing – his weight busting the latch open with such a violent noise that it startled Gilbert enough he actually screamed. Whatever his brother was going to say died in his throat almost instantly when he saw the state Ludwig was in. There were rips and cuts on his vest, small scratches on the skin of his arms and cheeks, and a noticeable sheen of sweat across his brow.

Noticing the distinct lack of a certain Frenchman, Gilbert could only manage to utter a low, “ _What happened?_ ” as a sick and heavy weight settled in his gut. He couldn’t move from where he held Antonio, even though he desperately wanted to. Ludwig’s uncharacteristically frightened demeanour was stirring up a fierce pain in his chest. The blond was barely managing to take in a full breath as he rested his back against the front door. Droplets of sweat ran down his face, and his skin was now almost paler than Antonio’s at this point. He slid down to the floor, muttering frenetically and incoherently, clutching his head between his hands and completely withdrawing into himself. Gilbert had no choice but to weasel a frumpy cushion out and temporarily prop Antonio’s arms up. He approached his brother and knelt at his side, trying desperately to keep his own shaking under control.

“Lud, what- _talk slower_ , I can’t--”

“ _Francis is dead._ ” The words flew so easily from his lips that Gilbert didn’t believe it at first. “ _There was no one, everyone was gone_ – I- Francis, he- _oh God, brother, I couldn’t do anything!_ ” He was speaking a little clearer now, but Gilbert shuddered and scrunched his eyelids shut at the explanation he was received. He eventually found himself staring at Antonio as Ludwig kept talking. He wondered if those wounds were going to heal at all.

Gilbert had known nations to come back from some of the gravest of injuries, given the right amount of time and physical treatment; because at their core, their life-force was their nationhood. Their bodies were just vessels of flesh for the collective spirit and identity of their people. As long as their lands and their people remained, their physical form would live on. At least, that’s what he had always believed. He wasn’t entirely sure how far their bodies could be damaged before they were beyond salvation. Their existence and overall functionality as living beings had been an ongoing mystery since the dawn of civilisation.

Ludwig had stopped speaking and was now fixated on trying to steady his heaving chest. Gilbert felt the beginnings of a headache from the assault of thoughts. It was all too much right now. He felt sick.

Gilbert attempted to regain some semblance of organisation in his scattered brain, spreading the questions and theories apart like beads on a table. He zeroed in on the key issues and temporarily discarded all others. Firstly, there was no telling what else the creature Ludwig had encountered was capable of; whether they were embodiments of nations or not, it was powerful enough to overcome even their own unnatural strength. Secondly, it was absolutely unsafe for any of them to go wandering through woods – especially since they had no idea where the others had disappeared to. With Antonio in his current condition, there would be no quick escape if they crossed paths with the thing. And lastly, the thought that rattled his insides most, was that they couldn’t stay in the cabin for long – it would find them eventually. Their only certainty was that they had to leave, and soon.

There was a searing, stinging heat that spread across Alfred’s right cheek as his mind finally regained clarity. Arthur’s fist was balled around the collar of his hoodie, holding him close and steady for the savage backhand he had just delivered. The strike had nearly knocked his glasses clean off his face.

“You hit me.” Alfred’s voice was flat and altogether stunned as he set his eye-wear straight.

“Yes, and you bloody well deserved it,” Arthur spat as he let go of the other man’s collar. “Any moron with half a brain-cell knows that’s not what you do when you’re being chased by a predator.”

Alfred was still lost for words as he rubbed his smarting face. When he finally remarked, “That fucking hurt,” Arthur could only huff in utter exasperation as he walked away with a slight sway in his step. He decided instead to busy himself with investigating the mini-bus they had both escaped to. Alfred had nearly forgotten it was even there during his lapse of rationality. He had gotten completely lost in his own fear. It felt like he had blacked out – he couldn’t recollect the events that had led him and Arthur here. All his mind supplied was a blurry haze of gunfire, dancing shadows, screaming, and a lingering feeling of déjà vu about the whole affair. Then he was here by the mini-bus, struck back-handedly into coherency.   

Alfred glanced nervously back at the way they had come and felt his hairs stand on end as a soft breeze rolled by. Through the mist of his blackout he vaguely recalled a shriek in the darkness, but he only now had the lucidity to consider its origin.

“You heard that earlier, right?” Alfred questioned as he shuffled closer to Arthur and the comfort of his torchlight. “That wasn’t just my imagination, yeah? Arthur?”

The shorter blond was engrossed in the state of the vehicle. He was crouched down and supporting himself with one hand on the side of the bus – clearly still feeling the effects of his alcoholic binge earlier that evening. Alfred tore his eyes from the shifting shapes of the trees around them and looked down at the illuminated side of the bus. The tyres were completely shredded.

“Oh, what the fuck.”

“What the fuck, indeed,” Arthur mimicked, still past the point of caring for cordial language. “I knew there was something off about this place… God bloody damn it!” He banged his fist on the metal in his frustration.

“What’re we going to do,” Alfred asked, his voice unusually frail. He could feel his pulse begin to rise as an unknown feeling began to crawl its way through his body. Without realising it he had started to hyperventilate. Like it was instinct, Arthur immediately seized him by the shoulders. He was firmly trying to blink through his own fogginess, but he maintained eye-contact with Alfred and counted his breaths down in an action that Alfred confusedly felt familiar with. It was like a stubborn splinter wedged in the corner of his mind; they’ve done this before, or something like it; this fear isn’t new – and somehow, that was scarier.

“I’m not normally like this, you know that… I’m normally the strong one – the one who protects our friends; the one who runs screaming into a fight – not run screaming in the other direction,” he said when he finally had room between his breaths. “I don’t know what’s happening to me, Arthur.”

Arthur had been focusing off to the side since Alfred had stopped hyperventilating, but those last few words brought his attention back. In that moment, he felt like he was looking at a child nation once again. Guilt welled up inside of him and he once more turned his gaze away.

“I do,” Arthur confessed.

There was some kind of forlorn regret that hung beyond the fog of his remaining intoxication that was perplexing. Alfred desperately tried to piece it together, but his brain was barely coping as it was.

“What do you mean?” Arthur moved away.

“We have to regroup with the others,” the Brit stated, blatantly ignoring Alfred’s questions. “Once we do that, we can get a better idea of—”

“No, stop, don’t you fucking do that!” The American grabbed his friend’s arm and jerked him back, perhaps a little harder than he had intended. “What aren’t you telling me, Arthur?”

“You don’t remember,” Arthur replied with a hardness to each word. It was like they were guardian and child again – Alfred despised that, and it showed. But Arthur didn’t flinch at the glare thrown his way. He had long been immune to such demeanours. “Now isn’t the time for it; especially after that episode you just had.” This time when he walked away, Alfred didn’t stop him. The ground seemed like an excellent place to direct his glower as his fists clenched and unclenched in roiling irritation.

“I promise to tell you soon,” Arthur vowed in earnest. “Once we find the others, okay?”

“Alright,” Alfred yielded.

“Are there any spare tyres for this, by the way?”

“There should be two, but if all of them are ruined, they’re not going to be much help either way.” Alfred grimaced as he glanced back at the shredded rubber. They were too far gone to even consider a patch job.

“Brilliant,” Arthur deadpanned. “Guess we’re on foot the whole way, then.”

“Easy, comrade, it’s only us.”

Basch held his gun level, even when Ivan stepped out from his hiding place with both hands raised in placation. It was so dark now, he could barely make out the shapes of the two quivering brunets who followed the Russian. They were so close to one another they could’ve easily been confused for conjoined twins.

Confirming there was no threat, Basch lowered his weapon.

“Have you seen the others?” He had no patience for preamble. He had no patience for anything – not when his sister clung to the back of his shirt like it was her only lifeline. At least her sobbing had relented; he didn’t think his heart could take much more of that – not after what happened. He felt her body shift as she peered around the shield of his body to face the group and her tension eased at the sight of familiar faces. 

“It all happened so fast, everyone was screaming, and, you and Alfred were shooting, and-”

“W-we ran,” Lovino interrupted his brother, barely overcoming his own frightened stammer. Basch could now see that the darker haired of the two was leaning against the other, his weight kept off his right leg.

“Lovino tripped,” Feliciano explained, noticing Basch’s attentiveness. “We were running downhill, towards the lake, I think; we didn’t have our flashlights. I don’t think he broke it, but-”

“Feli, _for the love of God_ , I just rolled my ankle, it’s fine.” The way he winced when he tried to adjust himself said otherwise. “We were hiding in some bushes when Ivan ran into us; we’ve been here since.” 

“How is Lili?” Ivan inquired, changing the topic in a heartbeat. Even though they could barely see one another, she recoiled under the attention out of reflex. Basch eyed the Russian warily. “Was she hurt?” He had heard the first shots come from the two siblings’ tent, so it seemed like the right thing to ask.

“I-I’m okay, t-thank you,” came her almost inaudible answer between a sniff. “It grabbed my leg, t-that’s all.”

Basch knew that she was downplaying the events but kept quiet. It was unnecessary to remind her of the trauma; to have been woken in the night by some shadowy figure hovering over her, and to have nearly been ripped from her tent and dragged into the night by her ankles. “Three shots; nothing. Chest, head, eyes – by all accounts it should be dead,” he remarked instead. “I don’t understand.”

“And yet Alfred kept shooting,” The Russian sighed, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, because he’s a dumbass,” Lovino spat as he rolled his eyes.

“This I already knew, but perhaps I underestimated the extent of his stupidity.”

“What should we do then?” Feliciano inquired with a hint of urgency. “What if it’s still there? Where do we go?”

“I did hear a noise from that direction a while ago,” Basch agreed with a nod of his head. “So, it’s probably wise not to return there just yet…”

“Everyone probably had the same idea,” Lili opined. “Maybe they’ll all go down to the lake? O-or the bus?” The rest of the group concurred in silence.

“The lake it is, then.” Basch turned and gazed down the dark slope. He remembered the vague direction of the body of water as all the terrain naturally inclined towards it.

“And if no one comes?” Lovino queried with heavy scepticism. "Then what?"

“Then we go to the bus.” There was an unspoken unanimous agreement to the decision. “Has anyone else got their mobile phone?”

“My battery is nearly dead, and I haven’t been able to get any signal,” Feliciano admitted.

“Mine’s still in the tent,” Lovino added, to which Ivan acknowledged his was as well.

“Wonderful,” Basch declared with evidently no energy to muster sarcasm. He produced his own device from the back trouser pocket and set its camera light to torch mode. He kept it aimed towards the ground, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention. They only needed to see their path to avoid any further accidents.

“Stay close and stay quiet,” he instructed before leading the way.

Jack was no stranger to running through forests at night whilst drunk – it was a common enough occurrence between himself and Nikau that he would almost call it a pastime. He had a slight benefit with a torch to light his way, but despite that, the terror that pulsed through his veins was enough to counterbalance all his advantages. He swore he nearly crashed into every tree and log on his way through.

In the short second it took for Jack to glance over his shoulder, he smashed through another wall of bushes only to collide with yet another obstacle on the other side. The ground disappeared beneath him and there was a stomach clenching sensation of feeling briefly suspended before a fall. A great deal of yelling and grunting took place as he and two others tumbled down the uneven hillside. Sparks of hot pain erupted in various parts of his body as Jack rolled and twisted down the dark embankment that almost began to feel endless. After one final bump over a rock he came to a halt, groaning in agony as he lay haphazardly tangled with those who he had crashed into. The torch had left his grip at some point in his ungraceful journey downhill, and now lay a few metres away in the grass. Thankfully, it was still tilted in their general direction and granted some visibility.

“You idiot! Watch where you’re going,” came a hissed voice that Jack immediately recognised as Yao’s. When his head finally stopped spinning from the inertia he could see Kiku was there too. With what little coordination he had left, Jack attempted to crawl off the pile. The moment he shifted to stand, however, a white-hot sensation shot through several points along his arms, back and neck. He was caught under something.

“Ow, what in fuck’s name-?” Jack broke off when he saw barbed wire embedded into his skin. His eyes followed the rusted, twisted lines that weaved together to form a messy net. Barbs hooked under the threads of his clothes and pierced into his flesh, drawing blood. When he tried to adjust his position again, both Kiku and Yao made pained noises. They were all caught in it.

“Aah, that hurts, that _really_ hurts!” Kiku yelped when Yao tried to wriggle himself free. Part of the wire had wrapped itself around his neck, and although the fabric of his sweater was thick, the tightening sensation was enough to cause distress.

“Everyone, stop moving,” Jack ordered as he tried to settle the rising anxiety. “We have to untangle ourselves slowly.”

“If I get tetanus, I am going to punch you in the face so hard you’ll need more than that stupid band-aid, Jack!” Yao’s anger was only contained in the form of verbal abuse thanks to their precarious and excruciating positions.

“A’right, duly noted,” he replied with a disregarding tone. He tried to find the ends of the wire netting, but each tug or shuffle caused someone discomfort. Okay, Plan B it was.

Jack tentatively moved his hand down to pat the pockets of his pants and felt dizzying relief when he found his pocketknife. “Hold still, I’m gon’ try cut us out.”

Yao and Kiku both obeyed, waiting patiently as they helped point out the weakest sections they could find. He worked the rusted curl of metal between the unsharpened edge of his knife and its sheath, bending back and forth until the wire fatigued and eventually snapped. It was a slow process, but at least they were making some kind of progress.

After a couple of minutes, Yao was the first to break free. He stood carefully and gingerly plucked the remaining barbs that clung to his clothing. There were too many scratches and pinprick marks to count. As Jack continued to break apart the netting, Yao made cautious steps towards the lonely torch. In the horizontal shaft of light that lit their immediate area, he could see several more lines of wire tucked amongst the leaf litter that covered the soil. He retrieved the torch but struggled to keep the light on the others, driven by a nagging curiosity to see what exactly they had fallen down into.

He barely heard Jack’s reprimanding words as he scanned their surroundings. Steep slopes encircled them to form a deep bowl-shaped clearing. There was a layer of rotting leaves, pine needles and partially concealed barbed wire that covered the ground beneath their feet. There was the skeleton of a stag that lay at the opposite end - antlers still ensnared in wire. Yao flashed the light to the top of the slope were it was rimmed by a thick wall of bushes and old trees. He followed the wide, towering trunks of the trees up and up, until their canopies curled over the pit, like the fingers closing over the palm of one’s hand. The torchlight glinted off of silvery lines dangling from the branches way above them – like spiders silk, barely perceptible; but as Yao’s hand reached for one of those wispy threads, he felt the cold caress of yet more wire. He recoiled like he had been stung as awareness flooded his senses.

“Jack, hurry up,” he urged as he spun around; his ponytail nearly whipped him in the cheek. He saw the Australian throw his hands up in triumph having just gotten himself loose, not even caring that there were some pretty nasty slices across his shins and forearms.

“I’d work faster if you’d be useful and gave me some bloody light!” Jack retorted and knelt back down to continue his efforts. Kiku was tangled the worst and even though he was the last one caught in the mess, the remaining barbed wire prevented him from making even the slightest of movements.

Jack started at Kiku’s legs where the cocoon of metal was loosest, not wanting to pull any more on the threads that looped around the man’s throat. He traced his fingers along the twisted lines and was overcome with elation when he figured out how to unravel the grim puzzle.

“Alright, I think I got it! Don’t worry Kiku, I’ll have you out in—”

“No time!” Yao finished, but not in the tone Jack had been leading with. He followed Yao’s gaze to the top of the hill behind them.

The torchlight haloed a pale squatted shape between the shrubs. Two hollow black eyes stared back at them, unblinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank You...  
> The prey has scattered far and wide and now the grand hunt has truly commenced.  
> I noticed New Zealand doesn't actually have a consistent fanon name, so I've settled on Nikau - a popular Maori boy's name - but it's really just something mentioned here and nothing to fixate heavily upon.  
> If you have anything you'd like to share with me about my story, or just want to talk about it on Tumblr, use the tag #HetaHorror and I will absolutely be able to find it - or send an ask or submission to the official blog that's been linked in previous chapters.  
> And as always, leave me your thoughts, your ruminations; your interest nourishes my writing.  
> Until next time dear campers xx


	7. a noose of wire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Warnings do apply for violent descriptions. No Illustrations are in this chapter.

Yao had the firm belief that there wasn’t much in the world that could scare him. Having existed longer than a majority of his peers, he had experienced and endured all manner of horrors throughout his life. And yet, there was something about the way the grim creature stared at them – hollow and unwavering – that had his instincts flaring. Its chalky skin was smeared with a worrying shade of red, and Yao desperately tried to forget about the scream he had heard not too long ago. He felt a drop of sweat run down his face. The creature did nothing but sit.

“Jack, we have to go, _now_ ,” Yao pressed in a hushed voice. He could feel his hands starting to shake. The Australian glanced slowly between Yao and their grim spectator. He moved with fearful caution, as though a sudden movement could break the spell that was over them. He only had a few more joints of the wire to go. As steady as his hands could manage, he worked the rusted metal between the juncture of his knife once again.

At the first metallic snap, everyone flinched. Their eyes drifted to where the fiend remained seated. It scratched at the rolls of skin around its neck with reddened fingers but didn’t move otherwise. Jack resumed.

A second snap.

The squatted creature swayed its bony knees like a bored child, bumping the sides of its head with each closing swing.

“Please _hurry!_ ” Yao pleaded. He glanced down to see how much was left to break and was relieved to find Kiku could move an arm and a leg. At the third snap of wire, he was almost free – only the tangle around his right arm and neck kept him tethered to the rest of the trap.

Yao looked back up to the hilltop, and the creature was gone. He blinked once, then twice – it couldn’t have just disappeared so suddenly, so _soundlessly._

“Jack, we have to go, now!” Yao was past controlling his volume. He was just about at their side when a harsh wooden crack echoed high above them. Quicker than they could blink, a thin line of metal flashed whip-like in the torch beam. Leaves and dirt burst up from the ground as concealed wire was disturbed.

“Kiku!” Yao felt his gut drop as he watched his eastern brother be violently yanked off his feet and pulled upwards into the air. He didn’t think – he just dropped the torch and reached for Kiku in a purely reactionary motion. He and Jack caught an ankle each, but the opposing force only caused the wire to slip and tighten. Kiku’s arm was now pinned at an uncomfortable angle against his side and the barbs began biting into his throat. He thrashed.

Yao felt like he himself couldn’t breathe; each strangled noise that came from above struck him brutally in the chest. He could barely form a coherent thought amidst the chaos. He could see the conflict in Jack’s eyes. If they pulled too hard they would only do more harm – but every second Kiku spent suspended like this was no better. He was on the verge of asphyxiation - his arm was straining under the pressure of the wires - they could feel the thing tugging the line in harsh stammered bursts --

Until it stopped.

The line went slack.

“Oh fuck—!" Jack cursed as Kiku’s weight suddenly dropped down. They backed off half a step to avoid being flattened, but no sooner had they moved the wire snagged hard once more. He was dangling half a meter off the ground by his neck and Yao immediately rushed back in.

“Jack, do something!” He yelled, frantic. He tried to hold Kiku’s legs – tried to relieve the tension from the taut wire.

Jack was sweating – his eyes darted about, searching for a solution. Short of climbing the tree, there was nothing he could use to hoist himself high enough to break the line. But even the tree wasn’t an option – they didn’t have time, and not only that, that thing was up there.

Or so he thought, until Yao’s face paled and the ground suddenly shuddered underfoot. Jack went to turn but was much too slow. The forest blurred into a twirling mosaic of green and black before he even registered the harsh bloom of pain in his side. What wasn’t winded from the strike was soon knocked from his lungs as his back collided with a mound of rocks on the opposite side of the forest concave. A ragged gasp tore from his mouth as he lay stunned against the boulders – vision swimming with static stars and ears ringing deafening klaxons.

Yao could hardly see Jack where he lay beyond the glow of the torchlight. The movement he did see should’ve been reassuring, if it weren’t for the situation he now faced. He felt Kiku’s legs twitch and he could only cling tighter.

The creature was _here_ , loitering at the edge of the light beam that was cast across the ground. It was standing now, on legs that were nearly as long as Yao was tall. And they were a gangly pair of limbs – bones and tendons on display underneath taut, mottled ivory skin. Yao dared to draw his eyes higher, up over its hunched torso – where skin and flesh hung in sagged layers around its belly – all the way up to meet its hideously baggy and vacant eyes. A ghoulish grimace was pulled across its misshapen face, all yellowed teeth and blackened gums, as it stared back down at him. It curled and uncurled its elongated fingers, lightly shaking the arm it had struck Jack with. The popping joints were like fireworks in Yao’s ears.     

“P-lease…” Kiku’s choked words came from above him. “L-leave me here… Get Jack and- run.”

Anger burned under the cold fear in his veins. “I’m not going to just leave you here!”

There was a pause before Kiku forced the word out, “W-why…?”

“What do you mean, _why?_ ” Yao barked, feeling slight indignation at being questioned. “No – don’t explain – you can save that for when we get the hell away from this thing!”

The creature blinked owlishly, tilting its head in an almost curious manner. Each second it lingered, Yao could hear his heart thump louder. Why was it just _standing there_?

“It’s n-no use—j-just go,” Kiku sputtered. “Warn the o-others.”

“Kiku, for the last time, I’m not—”

Without warning, the creature lurched its hand forward.

Yao reacted with lightning reflexes, throwing his leg up to meet the attack and striking the fiend’s knuckles with a well-aimed kick. It recoiled immediately, bringing its hand close to its chest. Its smile wilted, as if it hadn’t expected such strength.

Yao’s face hardened; he could deliver more powerful kicks than that if he he’d been in a better position. He watched the creature shift again and went to counter with his opposite leg, but he had lost the element of surprise. It seized Yao’s extended limb and wrapped its bony fingers around him in an excruciating hold. He caught the malicious glint in its dead eyes – it was over.

With one swift motion, the creature brought Yao crashing to the ground. His head bounced roughly against the soil and sent sparks shooting across his vision. Urgency flooded his system as he heard Kiku gag against the wires as he dangled unsupported. Something warm splattered across his forehead. He couldn’t escape. The beast grinned as it loomed over him, his leg still firmly in its ever-tightening grasp. He struggled – kicked with his other leg in the hope that he could at least stun the beast. But where he lay, he lacked power and his efforts became nothing more than pathetic flailing.

The creature’s fingers clenched with the intention of crushing bone, and Yao couldn’t stifle his agonised cry. There was a loud crack, then, for a heartbeat, he felt weightless. The forest floor vanished beneath him as the creature started to shake him out like a dusty rug. His head connected with the ground repeatedly – over and over – until all the fight was beaten out of him.

Yao felt himself be lifted once more as the fiend hung him within reach of its face. The cold grasp of unconsciousness pawed at the edges of his vision. Everything in his body ached in throbbing pulses – was there even a bone left unbroken? The abyssal black of the creature’s throat was all he could see as its maw opened wide, ready to receive him. Hot strings of saliva ran in streams down its neck rolls and pooled onto the leaves below.

The darkness inched closer.

Alfred and Basch couldn’t deter it with their guns, and the creature had no visible injuries to even tell of the encounter. How could he possibly fight this thing off?

Yao smiled solemnly. His vision was getting cloudier and the pain was fading into dull beats. He hoped Kiku would be spared witnessing this.

A flash at the corner of his eye broke his thoughts and before Yao even realised it, Jack had thrown himself onto the beast’s back, all the while yelling a fierce battle cry. A sickening wet pop resounded as he thrust the blade of his knife into the side of the fiend’s neck. Startled, gasped hoarsely as Jack jammed the blade as far as it would go. The creature began to writhe, reaching around with its free hand to try and claw its attacker off.

Jack fastened his grip – fuelled by a mix of adrenaline and anger - and dragged the blade back. The flesh gave way with remarkable ease under the knife’s edge and a thick oily sludge split in its wake. He felt his hand begin to slip as the ooze poured from the lesion, but he kept pulling, slicing through as much as he could before he either lost his grasp or was caught.

The creature twisted its arm around its back, groping blindly until eventually it snatched Jack by his waist. With matching fury, it sank its fingers in – puncturing skin and drawing blood with its pointed nails.  It tightened its hold, as if to make a point, before ripping Jack from its shoulders and tossing him across the forest floor where he tumbled over several loose strands of barbed wire.

The beast exhaled, wheezing in disrupted breaths yet grimacing with triumph. It didn’t seem to care about the horrible gash in its neck, even as it bled freely, leaving dark trails down its grotesque body. It eyed the prey still in its other hand.

“Jack!” Yao shouted with what coherency he had left. It was hard to move, let alone turn his head to see where the other had fallen. He had more he wanted to say, but no strength or time to say it. The fiend had grown impatient – its game now at an end. Jack barely even saw it happen as he rose on his trembling legs, hand clutched to his own bleeding wounds. One moment Yao was there and the next he was gone. He heard its jaw pop open, stretching so impossibly wide for its size to accommodate its meal. In just a few quick gulping motions, it had eaten Yao – still conscious and screaming – whole.

This had to be a nightmare.

Jack couldn’t breathe. Every part of his body felt numb, save for the punctures in his side that pulsed with white hot pain. He stepped backwards in subconscious instinct, further and further away as the creature continued its feast. Kiku had been hanging motionless for quite some time now; they’d been too distracted to help him. It was too late to do anything now.

He had to run – he had to warn the others. The fiend began to stretch its jaw open again, beneath Kiku’s motionless feet.

With a hand still pressed to his injured side, Jack bolted for the trees.

“How is he?”

The sound of Ludwig’s voice startled Gilbert from his thoughts. He had been fixated on Antonio, desperately hopeful to see some improvement – no matter how small – to his condition.

“No change. Bleeding has stopped, but we might have to replace the bandages.”

Ludwig nodded wordlessly as he eyed the Spaniard. He hadn’t moved since they’d placed him on the couch – his breathing the only indication of there being any life in him at all. Though the bandages around his arms were almost completely stained through, the dull browning colouration proved Gilbert’s observation to be true. Having used the all the spools of cloth they had found earlier, there wasn’t much clothing between the three of them that they could sacrifice for fresh bandaging.

“I’ll see if there’s anything useful lying around,” Ludwig announced. He preferred to be doing something productive than waiting around idly with his thoughts. It took a while for Ludwig to get a hold of himself after seeing what happened to Francis, and even then, it was a tenuous grip. He needed to be here in the present, focused and alert; there would be a time to be emotional, when they were safe and away from this mess.

Gilbert, now out of his reverie, became aware of his disregard to the passage of time. Feeling a need to ground himself, he reached for the pocket of his jeans; the absence of his phone naturally made his gut sink. He had loaned it to Francis.

“Lud, do you have the time?” He asked.

He may have left his phone in his tent, but Ludwig did still have his wristwatch. It was one of the few occasions he had decided to wear the accessory and he couldn’t have been more thankful for it. The tiny phosphorescent hands negated the need for torchlight.

“It’s almost midnight.”

“No way,” Gilbert nearly shouted, but dropped his volume midway. “It’s been way longer than that, surely?”

Ludwig shrugged, not really equipped with a sufficient answer. It did feel like more had happened than what an hour could accommodate. He resumed his search, only now noticing how spartan the whole place was. Even the walls were desolate of any decoration beyond the odd monolithic cobweb here and there. Thin fabric hung by each of the four windows in the main room, the ghostly remnants of what were probably once functional curtains. Oddly enough, the front windows, which were also the largest, had the least amount of fabric to work with. The smaller pair of windows that faced one another from opposing ends of the room were in much better condition, and thus were more likely to hold up as makeshift wrappings. He’d start with those.

As Ludwig began to unhook the curtain on window closest to the kitchenette, a flicker of light beyond the trees seized his attention. He squinted, for at first, he didn’t believe his eyes. The light continued to bounce and sway, gradually getting closer with each passing second.

“Someone’s coming.”

Gilbert perked up at this and quickly stood from the broken coffee table. He came up to Ludwig’s side and peered out the window to see the same shaft of light bobbing through the darkness. Two figures had emerged from the trees and were standing at the rim of the dilapidated fence. Awash with relief to see that there were still others around, Gilbert practically ran for the door. He didn’t even care that his foot nearly fell through the rickety patio boarding as he ran; the railings groaned as he leaned against them. He stopped short of calling out at the two figures, realising that doing so was likely to attract more than just their attention. Instead, Gilbert pursed his lips and made a loud yet abrupt whistle. The torchlight was immediately cast over him and he threw an arm over his eyes.

“Gilbert?” He instantly recognised Alfred’s loud voice and almost cringed at how conspicuous he was being given the circumstances.

As if on cue, the other person beside Alfred gave him a reprimanding jab followed by, “You wanker, are you trying to tell the whole forest where we are?”

The pair wasted no time in crossing the fence line; neither of them hesitating before the grim structure when there was a familiar face at its doorstep.

“Is it just you guys?” Gilbert questioned as they came within earshot to be spoken softly to.

“We haven’t run into anyone else, no,” Arthur replied.

“Who else is with you?” Alfred inquired, this time using a more appropriate tone of voice.

“Ludwig and Antonio...”

“You found the dumb sod then?” The slight irritation in the Brit’s voice didn’t sit well with Gilbert and it showed in his frown.

“Didn’t… didn’t Matthew tell you what happened?” Alfred and Arthur exchanged confused looks and Gilbert felt ill with unease.

“I thought he was with you?” Alfred recalled.

“He was, but when we found Tonio’s bracelet he volunteered to go back to camp while we went ahead,” Gilbert explained. His words were starting to become difficult to utter – he felt like his heart was in his throat. “You’re telling me you haven’t seen him since we left?”

“Well obviously!” Arthur growled back and Gilbert couldn’t stop himself from swearing. First Antonio, then Francis – and now, to only just find out that Matthew had never made it back before all of that had happened? He wanted to scream. It seemed like Alfred felt the same way.

“L-look, let’s just go inside, yeah?” He suggested instead, before he turned on his heels and went straight for the door. He couldn’t think clearly under the dread threatening to drown him.  

Alfred and Arthur followed, walking to the stairs out front of the porch instead of trying to climb over the weak railing.

“Antonio is… not in good shape, so um… try not to freak out and make a whole heap of noise,” Gilbert warned, seeking assurance in the others’ eyes before he opened the door. As they entered the cabin, Arthur was about to ask for clarification, but the sight of their companion lying prone on the torn-up sofa robbed him of all his words. He and Alfred could only stare in mortification.

“Glad to see you two,” Ludwig remarked, and Arthur merely nodded back.

“Bad news, Lud. Mattie never made it back to camp,” Gilbert informed as he crossed the room to sit back down on the broken coffee table. “This shit show just keeps getting worse.” The younger brother was shocked by this piece of information. He looked at the blond pair who were still standing by the front door, now aware that they had no idea of what had happened while they were away.

Arthur made slow cautionary steps towards Antonio, his eyes moving from the dried marks of his head injury to the darkened bandages around both of his arms.

“It was really bad when we found him,” Ludwig stated. “We did what we could – Francis went back to get help, but… there was shooting… I thought something was wrong, so I ran after him… then Francis, he…” He was losing his composure again; the images refused to stay out of his mind.

“That scream,” Alfred muttered in a frail voice. “I wasn’t imagining it.” He dropped to his knees – breaths coming weaker with the growing clarity of Ludwig’s implication. He didn’t totally faze out like last time, but the familiar clawing tension remained.  

Arthur closed his eyes, unable to speak, think or even look at the others. A stifling silence fell over the room.  

Eventually, Ludwig broke the quiet, “What is that thing?” He looked solely at Arthur as he questioned, even when the Brit refused to make eye-contact. He knew the man had an affinity for the occult, and whilst Ludwig preferred rational and logical reasoning, there was very little in those realms that could explain what he encountered. Impervious to firearms and capable of taking the life of one of their fellow nations, that was something well beyond his comprehension.

“Arthur?” Alfred prompted, noticing how the other hadn’t replied. He too was owed answers. If it weren’t for the fact that his inner turmoil overwhelmed every other emotion, he would’ve gotten angry at Arthur for his stubborn secrecy.

“It’s not from here.” His words catch all their attention. Gilbert and Ludwig shared a frown that was almost identical, while Alfred could only watch with worry. Arthur’s gaze was empty – still cast over Antonio, not really seeing him but seeing a faded memory of a boy swaddled head to toe in cloth wrappings. “And whatever it is, it’s not supposed to be here.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you...  
> I can't apologise enough for how much this chapter has been delayed. July was a very busy month, as I was participating in this year's Art Fight and also picking up hours at my day job. Things have gotten quieter now with my school schedule blocking out much of my work commitments and Art Fight is also about to come to an end. I'll be endeavouring to get back on track with more regular updates again - but if I'm ever slow, please do not fear. I don't want to leave this thing unfinished after the many years I've had it collecting dust in my mind.  
> In any case, the plot thickens like a refining sauce and our dear nations find themselves in an ever deepening state of peril.  
> And please, if you do discuss the story on Tumblr or the like, do tag it under #HetaHorror so that I may share it to the official blog. Otherwise leave me your thoughts right down below - and let me know if you find any cheeky errors, I shall promptly have them smote.  
> Until next time, dearest campers xx


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